Love Knows No Bounds
by BleachBox Romance
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo, a rouge samurai, is hired to act as a guard for a nobleman's sister, Rukia, while taking her to her arranged marriage ceremony. Forced to trek together for 300 miles, sparks will fly, and just maybe, love will be found. IchixRuki AU
1. A Mission Hesitantly Taken

**My fourth new story. I can't seem to stop. I have a very bad habit of getting a new idea and not being able to contain it for a few weeks. Thus, I am beginning a new fic that I am especially pumped about. A few little facts before we get stared:**

**TIME PERIOD: 1611**

**MAIN PARING: IchigoxRukia (naturally)**

**LOCATION: Japan**

**MAIN CHARACTERS: Ichigo, Rukia, Renji, Byakuya, assorted others.**

**Any questions, and I'll be happy to answer 'em!**

* * *

**_October 29, 1611_**

Ichigo sighed warily, running a hand roughly through his hair. He gave an exaggerated, audible yawn and eyed the man sitting across from him with a look of shrewd contempt. Entwining his fingers behind his head, he made himself comfortable on the mat surrounding the table and crossed his legs. "And why, Renji, did you travel all the way from Kyoto here to Osaka?"

"Because," Renji sighed, his eye slightly twitching from the younger man's smug attitude. "I have an assignment that might," He paused briefly to search for the right word. "Intrigue you."

"Look, I've already told you, I don't want join the Shinsengumi." Ichigo spat out, clearly agitated.

"The fact of the matter is," Renji held up a hand in defense. "I made that offer when you were a jobless, dirty ronin. But, I see that hasn't changed much." He snickered quietly as he saw the younger man send a cold glare in his direction. "And anyways, I wouldn't want you to join the Shinsengumi. You presence would cause too much trouble for me, not to mention the entire city of Kyoto."

"Ha ha." Ichigo dryly replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, what pointless job have you dug up for me?"

"Well, given to me who is giving it to you, actually. Our commander, Yamamoto-sama, gave me an armed escort assignment. But," Renji gestured with his opened hand, "Since there is such an extensive amount of civil unrest with in the country, mainly Kyoto, no one in the Shinsengumi has the time to escort anyone out of the city's boundaries. Plus," He paused to take a drink of tea before continuing. "Even if we could find someone within the Shinsengumi who could act as a guard, he wouldn't last a day outside of Kyoto, with all the thieves and whatnot running around out there."

"So why would I be interested in escorting someone? I have my own life, my own place, my own job. Why should I waste my time guarding, what I assume to be, a stuck up noble?" Ichigo absentmindedly fumbled with his black kimono, lightly picking at a loose piece stitching.

"Well, for one thing, acting as a hitman for hire doesn't count as a job." Renji smiled as Ichigo rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Second, you are barely making ends meet in a rundown house you're renting. Thirdly, you know you need the money, you're just too stubborn and proud to admit it." Renji smirked slyly, tossing his empty cup up and down in his hand. "Besides, this seemed more your style than mine."

"How so?" Ichigo inquired, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well I'll start from the beginning. A nobleman and leader of a large part of the Imperial Army, Kuchiki Byakuya, has a younger sister by the name of Rukia. Byakuya sent a courier to the Shinsengumi's headquarters requesting an armed escort for his sister."

"Kuchiki Byakuya," Ichigo looked up, pondering the name. He snapped his fingers as realization struck him. "Doesn't he have black hair, kinda pale, almost sickly lookin'? Wasn't he the guy with that big mansion in Tokyo?" Ichigo asked curiously.

"Well, technically, it is his clan's mansion. But since he is the head of his clan, I suppose you could say that it's his." Renji replied. "He is having his sister married because his wife Hisana died about a year ago. The Kuchiki clan needs heirs, so I guess this is some last-ditch attempt to get some."

"And why would I care about the private life of a noble?" Ichigo growled, the patience with the older man thinning. "If you want it plainly, I couldn't care less about him."

"Would ya just let me finish?" Renji snarled, his temper rising. "Kuchiki has set an arranged marriage for Rukia, who traveled with me from Hiroshima."

"So, what you're basically saying is, is that I would be inconveniencing you by not accepting the job?" Ichigo sighed angrily as Renji nodded. "But that still doesn't tell me why this would be my kind of job."

"You will be traveling through a renegade infested, war ravaged stretch of land that few groups of less than ten leave alive." Renji folded his hands and set them on the table. "I'd imagine that with your skill with a sword that you will be able safely escort Rukia to Edo."

"Osaka to Edo? How long would that be?" Ichigo silently marveled at the long distance.

"Oh, about a good three hundred miles. It should really take you only one-and-a-half, maybe two months to reach Tokyo. The arranged wedding is in about three months, which should give you plenty of time. A few storms and roving thieves are to be expected, but after all, you are tough ol' Ichigo. I wouldn't imagine any kind of fight that could keep you out for too long."

"And the girl?" Ichigo leaned forward, shifting his weight to his elbows. "Would a fight keep her out for long?"

Renji laughed, the humor of the comment escaping Ichigo. "Despite her appearance, she is a very sturdy individual. She won't slow you down."

Smirking, Ichigo let his hand rest on the handle of his katana. "And why couldn't you simply send me a message via mail? You aren't one to go out of your way to tell someone what could be written in a letter."

"You aren't the kinda person who would be convinced by a mere letter." Renji gave a ghost of a smile. "Besides, you know how I hate having to write long, detailed letters."

"Point taken." Ichigo sighed, contemplating his situation. Two months of nothing but walking with a nobleman's sister through Japan's countryside. Wonderful. "Well, I'll tell ya plainly: I don't like it. But, I've got nothing better to do with my time, so what the hell?"

"Excellent!" Renji seemed oddly overjoyed at Ichigo's acceptation of the task at hand, which made the younger of the two scoff venomously.

"So," Ichigo laid down on the mat, letting his muscles relax. "When do I have to take this Rukia to Edo?"

"Tomorrow. Meet us in the garden at Fukijawa palace just outside of town. Noon sharp." Renji smiled as he pick up his katana and opened the sliding door. Pausing briefly, he turned to his comrade with a bitter smile. "And Ichigo," His smile turned sly when he caught the younger man's attention. "Don't be late."

* * *

**Ohh, great fun!! Ichigo and Rukia get to go on an adventure!! Saddle up, my homies, 'cause it's sure to be a bumpy ride!**

**Until next time,**

**BANKAI!**


	2. The Adventure Begins

**I've gotta say, I feel pretty stupid. I've read several books on Japanese history, most of which very detailed and specific. After acquiring all that knowledge, I managed to make one very foolish error: Tokyo was named Edo until the 19****th**** century. I will thank sanriochica333 for bringing the error to my attention, and I have edited Chapter 1 by changing Tokyo to Edo.**

**TITLE: Love Knows No Bounds**

**TIME PERIOD: 1600s**

**MAIN PARING: IchigoxRukia (naturally)**

**LOCATION: Japan**

**MAIN CHARACTERS: Ichigo, Rukia, Renji, Byakuya, assorted others.**

**I've decided to start a 'questions corner' of sorts by setting aside a section of each chapter for questions that I have been asked by my loyal readers. I really have nothing more to say on that, so I guess I should start answering some questions.**

**Q: Who is Rukia engaged to marry? -andraq**

**A: The person Rukia is engaged to marry will be revealed in this chapter. (I'll give ya a hint: It's someone I _really _want to kill off, and just might have to in this story.)**

**Q: What's bankai? -PrincessAngel101**

**A: In _Bleach_, each shinigami's zanpakuto has three forms: Basic, which is like Renji or Byakuya's katana, the first form. Shikai, which is the initial release, like Renji's "Howl Zabimaru". Then Banki is the third and final form is Bankai, the final release of a zanpakuto. An example is "Tensa Zangetsu", or when Ichigo's sword turns into a katana with a black blade.**

**Any other questions, and I'll be happy to answer 'em!**

* * *

_**October 30, 1611**_

Ichigo carefully examined his blade, letting the edge reflect brightly from the sun's rays. He squinted as the reflecting light met his brown eyes, and he held the katana outwards, testing its weight. What would have seemed heavy to most was relatively light for the orange haired man, and he skillfully sung the blade, careful not to hit the wall closest to him. With just as much precision, he pulled the blade out of its swing and tucked it into its sheath, the empty room resounding with metal sliding against metal.

Loosening the top of his black kimono, Ichigo let his arm rest lazily on the sheath of his blade and exited the small house, stepping onto the busy street. Osaka was an exceptionally large city, not too big, but large all the same. It was an seaport city, built around the 6th century A.D. as Naniwa. The name of the city had been changed relatively recently, around 1580, to Osaka. In the some one thousand odd years that Osaka had been a recognized city in Japan, it's population had grown excessively.

Walking briskly down the dirt street, Ichigo wiped his sweaty brown, cursing the stifling heat. The walk from his house to Fujikawa palace wasn't far at all, but with the sweltering heat, the heavy humidity, and the dust being kicked up from passing wagons and men on horseback, the trek would feel much longer. Ichigo coughed roughly into his closed fist as a group of soldiers, all ridding horses, cantered past him, sending dust in all directions.

Ichigo paused, watching the band of horsemen ride down the busy street. He watched with a curious glare as a group of infantry, maybe around twenty or twenty five men, followed closely behind the cavalry. "Outta the way, boy!" Ichigo was roughly pushed off the side of the road by one of the soldiers, and he stumbled slightly. Wrapping a hand around the handle of his katana, he snarled menacingly, but fought the urge to draw his weapon. Spitting venomously, he stalked down the road, ignoring the dust that stung his eyes.

His flaring temper began to dissipate as he reached the city's borders, and Fujikawa palace became clearly visible past the tall buildings of the Japanese seaport. The faintest of smiles graced Ichig's lips as he stepped past the city's walls and into the lush, green grass of Japan's countryside. Looking to the east, he could see the bustling docks, small, almost microscopic figures loading and unloading cargo from the marvelous ships.

The sun shone brightly, but Ichigo disregarded it, enjoying the beauty and serenity of the land outside Osaka, something he could rarely do. With a sigh, he rapped sharply on the large, wooden door to the palace's garden. When questioned on his identity and purpose, he yelled powerfully, "Kurosaki Ichigo. I am to escort Kuchiki Rukia to Edo, and I'll have to get in so I can get her."

"Ah, Ichigo," A snarl worked its way out of Ichigo's lips as he recognized the voice to be Renji's. "You're half an hour late, ya know."

"Open up, Abarai." Ichigo warned dangerously, banging his foot sharply against the door.

"My, my. Impatient, aren't we?" Before Ichigo could respond, the doors opened. Renji stood, a cocky grin plastered on his face, in the middle of the entryway, his flamboyant red and blue kimono ruffling in the breeze. "And here is the mighty Kurosaki Ichigo, preparing for his perilous journey across three hundred-"

"Not. Another. Word." Ichigo's threat elicited a loud, hearty fit of laughter from his comrade.

Sighing and shaking his head, Ichigo sauntered through the doorway, looking around the vibrant garden. "Well, I'm ready to go. Where's the girl?"

Chuckling, Renji gestured to a pathway leading through he garden. "It'd do you good to learn her name; she doesn't take kindly to people calling her 'girl'." He led Ichigo down the path, still smiling widely. "Your tardiness has caused us a bit of panic. I'd almost thought you'd left without Rukia."

"I'm not that excited." Ichigo stuffed his hands into his pockets, wheeling his neck around to relieve its muscles of their strain.

Renji laughed again, only quieter. "Remember, Ichigo, it was you who took the offer."

"That may very well be," Ichigo let his voice quietly trail off. "You certainly have given me many warnings about Rukia. I'm beginning to think that she's more rebellious than most."

"Your observation is an understatement," Renji examined the pommel of his sword. "She isn't one to take any crap; I've experienced hat first hand." He rubbed a faint bruise on the side of his head. "But she'll behave, none the less. After all, her life is resting squarely on your shoulders."

"Was that supposed to make me break out in a sweat?" Ichigo callously inquired, peering around the garden.

"Not at all. Just making sure you know the responsibility I have entrusted you with." Renji turned down a curve in the path and approached the palace. He briskly walked up the short set of stairs and knocked on the door next to them. "Rukia! Kurosaki's here." He pressed his ear to the door and then stepped back, taking a casual stance next to Ichigo.

The door slid open, and the girl Ichigo took to be Rukia walked out. She was shorter than him, the difference in their heights very distinct. She had black hair that reached down to her shoulders, and large, shining violet eyes. She was dressed in a white kimono and traditional sandals. She approached the two men and bowed formally, speaking quietly, "I am honored, Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo looked her over with a hard gaze, his fierce, brown eyes studding her petite figure. Sighing, he turned to Renji. "Well, she doesn't look like much, but-" A pained howl escaped his lips as his hands instinctively moved to protect his throbbing groin. Renji raucous laughter rose above Ichigo's torrent of vivid obscenities. "Damnit, woman! What the hell is wrong with you! I'm the man who's gonna be guardin' you from bloodthirsty killers, and you kick me below the belt!"

Smirking evilly, he bent down so that she was eye level with Ichigo. "Well, oh-great-protector, if you plan on making it through three hundred miles of Japanese countryside, then you had better be more prepared than _that_." Standing, she turned to Renji and clamly stated, "I'll gather my things and will meet you at the stables."

Ichigo, who was still nursing his wound, gasped and sputtered in disbelief. "Th-that…little…" He snarled the last word out. "_Demon_."

Renji's laughter eventually subsided, and he helped Ichigo pick himself up off the ground. "I wasn't exaggerating when I said she didn't take any crap."

"No shit." Ichigo grumbled. "Damn, that midget sure packs one hell of a kick."

"You'll learn to live with it." Renji guided Ichigo down the remainder of the pathway. "I've had to deal with it for some twenty years now. And counting."

"You two've known each other for that long?"

"Yup." Renji nodded in confirmation. His face scrunched up slightly as they approached the stables, the rancid odder of horse manure thickly coating the air.

"Why do we need a packhorse, anyways?" Ichigo grumbled irritably, leaning against a fence. "Can't we carry this stuff on our own?"

Renji chuckled lightheartedly, looking out across the green, rolling hills. "You've gotta lot to learn about the ways of nobles. Don't get me wrong; Rukia's not spoiled in any way, she's just obligated to do things that way. She wouldn't mind carrying her own pack, it's just that everyone'd be gettin' quite a bit of grief from Byakuya about it."

Ichigo and Renji proceeded into the stables, and the red haired man grabbed the reigns of a black horse, it's back topped with supplies and provisions for the journey. Renji tossed the reigns at Ichigo, who caught them and yanked the horse forward. The animal nickered and slowly walked forward, it's hooves heavily clopping against the dirt. Staring at the horse, Ichigo pointed a finger at it and turned his head towards Renji. "What kind of- DAMMIT!"

Renji snickered as Ichigo pulled his finger out of the animal's mouth, cursing loudly. "Well, Ichigo, seems you've met your match twice in one day. Once from a girl," Renji smirked and folded his arms smugly over his chest. "And again by a horse."

"Shut up!" Ichigo yelled, nursing his finger.

"Well, I'm ready." Rukia approached the stables, a small pack of clothes in her hands. She ignored the death glare that Ichigo sent in her direction, and tossed the bundle of clothes onto the horse's back.

"Well," Renji clasped his hands behind his back and let his weight rest on one leg. "I won't keep you two waiting. You should make good time if you leave now and don't stop 'till sunset."

"Please, keep us as long as you want." Ichigo flatly stated, peering at Rukia. "'Cause I just _can't wait _to go." He smirked triumphantly as Rukia scowled at him. With an agitated air about him, Ichigo tugged on the horse's reigns and began walking stalking away, towards the forest. Turning, he shouted back, "C'mon, Rukia! I'm not waiting forever!"

Ichigo shook his head and continued on his way as Rukia caught up with him. The walk through the valley didn't take too long; only about twenty minutes. Ichigo felt a small twang of relief as they entered the shade, the nearly suffocating heat giving way to the dark, cool recesses of the woods. Almost as soon as the coolness enveloped him, a sharp, burning sensation stretch from his left shoulder to his right hip. Groaning, he dropped to one knee, gripping the stinging flesh.

Startled, Rukia kneeled down beside him. "Ichigo, what is it?" She gasped, shocked when she saw a ghastly scar on the back of his shoulder. It was jagged and abnormally wide, wider than any normal blade.

Coughing, Ichigo pulled himself up and rubbed his shoulder, his eyes closed in pain. "It's nothing, I'm fine."

"But that scar-"

"I said," Ichigo's voice was serious, cutting off Rukia's words. "I'm fine. Now let's get moving, we're behind as it is." He slightly stumbled forward, lightheaded, then continued with his steady pace. "So," Ichigo never took his eyes off the pathway, his voice remaining flat. "This man you're marrying, what's his name?"

Rukia seemed somewhat surprised by the other's question, and looked up briefly at Ichigo's face. He looked down at her, his gaze harsh. She looked down before answering, breaking the eye contact with him. "His name is Aizen Sosuke."

A strange flash of emotion shot across Ichigo's face, a mix of anger and hatred, threatening to burst out of his lean frame. As soon as it appeared, the blend of emotions drained away, leaving the original scowling expression. "Hm." He seemed to growl, the sound of acknowledgement low and coarse, like a wolf's feral snarl. Ichigo's face twisted in a displeased grimace. "And what's he like?"

Rukia looked away again, out past the thin lining of trees to their right, into the lush valley, and out to the thin stretch of blue that was the ocean. "Well," She fumbled around awkwardly with her words, avoiding eye contact with Ichigo. "I…I've never met him before."

His emotionless face betrayed his surprise. Ichigo yanked harshly on the reigns of the hose when is paused, and it snorted in, what seemed like, disapproval. "So your brother's forcing you to marry a man you've never met before?"

Feeling slightly ashamed, Rukia dared to glance at Ichigo's hard face. "Y-yes."

Ichigo's lip twitched in a sneer of disgust as he scoffed lightly. Yanking harshly on the reigns once again, he pick up the pace to a faster walk, leaving Rukia puzzled by his sudden coarse behavior. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Ichigo's flat reply was sharp and unforgiving. Anger coated his voice thickly, and it seemed as if he made no attempt to hide it. "I really don't care."

Rukia's brow furrowed in confusion, slightly angered by Ichigo's scornful tone. She grabbed his arm and kept him still, not faltering under his frigid glare. "What's wrong?"

He roughly yanked his arm from her grip and continued forward. "Nothing." A false smile replaced Ichigo's scowl, and his voice was thick with hatred. "That'd be just like your brother, giving someone's life to a worthless bastard like Aizen."

"What's wrong with you?" Rukia challenged. "You've acted so different since I told you who I am arranged to marry. You're the one who wanted to know, and now you're acting like a spoiled fool. Why are you acting like this?"

Ichigo stopped and turned, his eyes fierce, his voice unforgiving. "Because, Aizen," His voice transformed into a snarl. "Is the man that killed my family."

* * *

**Ohh, cliffy! Poor Ichigo, his family was killed! But how and when did it happen? And where did he get that strange scar? You'll just have to wait and see!**

**Review if ya want, but I won't make ya.**

**Until next time,**

**BANKAI!**


	3. Take Control

**Wow. Where do I begin? Awright, first, sorry for the late update. I went to Florida for Spring Break, and I forgot to put this into my 'documents' section so I could upload when I got there. And my grandparent's computer is kinda 'phhft' if ya know what I mean, so I couldn't really rewrite anything while I was down there. But, everyone knows that a trip from Atlanta, Georgia to central Florida means one thing: ROAD TRIP!!! XD**

**Since my stupid little piece of crap computer got a virus, I had to delete some of my stories to make room for the anti-virus thing. But, on the plus side, I saved A Thousand Miles & Blood And Steel. Sorry, I'll try to put the deleted fics back up ASAP.**

**Next week is when us 7th Graders get to take out CRCT tests, which means NO HOMEWORK FOR A WHOLE FRIGGIN' WEEK!! XD So, next Friday I should have updated all of my current in-work fics (_A Thousand Miles, Blood And Steel, The Ghost Of You, _&_ Love Knows No Bounds_). **

* * *

Rukia stared at Ichigo, eyes wide with shock. His family had been killed by Aizen? She looked straight into his amber eyes. She saw the swirl of anger, pain, sadness, agony, bitterness, all come to the surface. Still stunned, she lightly placed a hand on his shoulder. "I…I'm sorry." She softly murmured.

Ichigo shrugged bitterly, his scowl softening faintly. "It's nothing. It happened forever ago, anyways." He turned away and looked at the sky, grimacing at the faint sound of rolling thunder and the dark, black clouds quickly advancing towards them. Blinking, he stared at the distant flash of lightning and the misty wall of rain about a mile away. "We should probably set up camp for the night. That storm's headin' this way, and it doesn't seem like one we'd want to be caught in the middle of."

Rukia nodded, deciding not to push the matter further. Following him a short distance into the forest, she couldn't help but steal a glance at his hardened face. Ichigo's face was completely neutral, not showing any of the several emotions he must have been feeling. Not paying any attention, Rukia ran into Ichigo's back when he stopped abruptly in front of a small clearing. The clearing was situated next to a small stream, and only a short distance from the road; close enough so that they could still see it and could easily continue with their venture the next day, but far enough that their camp would be hidden from any elusive highwaymen.

Ichigo tightly tied the reins of the black horse to a nearby tree, pulling roughly on the knot to ensure its security. He reached into one of the saddle bags and pulled out a large, thick white piece of cloth, some strings of rope, and wooden pegs. Quickly erecting the tent, which would be their only form of shelter on the long trip, he harshly hammered the wooden pegs into the ground with the sheath of his sword, the previous conversation between him and Rukia still clearly bothering him.

"Here." Ichigo stood, sweat covering his brow, and tossed a small pack to Rukia. "You're sleeping in the tent."

Rukia caught the small bundle, and stared at Ichigo. "Where are you going to sleep?"

"Outside." His bland reply was harsh, and he sat against the trunk of a tree. He let his katana rest against his shoulder, and he leaned his head against the tree, eyes closed.

Staring at Ichigo for a few moments longer, she flinched as a raindrop hit her nose, followed by several others. Finally gathering the courage to speak, she boldly stated, "You're going to catch a cold."

Ichigo cracked an eye open, peering at the small girl with a shrewd gaze. "I know."

Sighing, Rukia walked over to him, tapping his leg with the tip of her foot. "Why don't you sleep inside the tent?"

"'Cause I don't want to."

"Why not?" Rukia asked, tapping his leg again.

Growling, Ichigo pulled his leg away. "What's it to you, anyways? I'll sit out here for as long as I want to."

"Just stay inside until the rain passes." Rukia tried again. "I don't feel like having to take care of you if you catch a cold."

Ichigo looked up, sighing warily, and stood, his lean frame towering over Rukia. Grumbling, he limbered over to the tent and sat at the edge of the opening, leaning against the wooden pole. He didn't divert his eyes from the pouring rain as Rukia sat down next to him, keeping a safe amount of distance between them. Rukia eyed Ichigo wrapping a scarred hand around a small pendant that hung around his neck. "What's that?"

Ichigo's expression softened as he gripped the talisman tighter. "It was my mother's. She gave it to me before she di-" His face hardened, and his scowl returned. "Was killed."

"Sorry." Rukia looked away, ashamed.

"Don't be. It's not your fault she died." Ichigo turned and looked at her, his face serious. "Don't apologize for Aizen."

Rukia looked out into the rainstorm, the black clouds, and the fact that it was night, made it difficult for her to see. When she decided to speak, her voice was cautious and gentle. "Ichigo," She briefly hesitated, then continued. "I don't want to rub salt in your wounds, but don't you want to talk about it? It's always helped me."

Ichigo looked surprised, but he smiled slightly. "Four years ago, when I was sixteen," He rested his weight against the wooden pole, sighing. "My father moved us to Kyoto. He was a doctor, and with all the fighting breaking out in the city, saw an opportunity to make a decent living by aiding wounded soldiers. We all had a normal life; I had a mother, a father, and two sisters. We were all…happy."

"But," Ichigo's face hardened, and he let go of the pendant. "My father saved the lives of five wanted murderers who were stabbed while escaping from the prison. It was while Aizen was in charge of Kyoto. The same day, my father gave me some medicine to deliver to a house a few miles from town. My mom gave me this necklace as a sort of 'good luck' charm. The patient's house was about a days walk there and back, so I spent the night at their house. When I came back the next day," Ichigo continued to speak through clenched teeth, anger coating his words, "Everyone was dead. Apparently, assisting wounded criminals is a crime warranting execution."

Rukia nodded in silent disbelief, motioning for him to continue. "Aizen never even made a move to hide the bodies. I walked into my house to find my entire family slaughtered. There was blood all over the walls, the floor, the table" Ichigo clutched his head in his hands, shuddering at the vivid memories. "Their bodies were mutilated beyond recognition. They killed everyone. My dad, my mom, my sisters," He let out a shaky sigh, running a hand through his hair. "It was a week before my sister's birthdays. They were gonna be thirteen."

"That's…horrible." Rukia murmured, shocked by the story.

"After that, I set out to find Aizen. After two years of searching all across Japan, I finally found him in Hiroshima. And when we we're finally face to face," Ichigo's eyes narrowed. "We fought. It was only for an hour, but it felt like a month. I truly thought I could have beaten him, but he was out of my league. Our swords were locked, and he kicked be in the stomach. Before I could get up, he got me in my back. That's where the scar came from."

"What happened after that?" Rukia curiously inquired.

"I was sent to prison for "attacking" a government official. So," Ichigo let his head lean against the wooden pole, watching the sheets of rain that fell outside the tent. "I busted out. Got beaten pretty bad by the guards when I made a run for it, so I guess I passed out in the forest. When I woke up, I was in Osaka. Pretty much where I've stayed for the past year and a half. My escape was buried under tons of bureaucratic paperwork, so Aizen never spared me a second glance."

"Aizen…he did all that?" Rukia stared in disbelief into Ichigo's amber eyes.

The orange haired man nodded solemnly, eyes closed in remembrance. "And there's no telling what else he's done. If I were you, I'd seriously consider talking to your brother about this whole arranged marriage thing."

Rukia looked away from Ichigo, closing her violet eyes. "I have…and I wish what I say could make a difference, but," Her sorrow filled eyes met Ichigo's. "There's no reasoning with my brother. It's a Kuchiki family custom for all children to be married by their eighteenth birthday. And I'll be turning eighteen in January. If I could choose anyone, I would, but nii-sama only allowed me to choose from nobles and government officials."

"Hmm." Ichigo pondered the statement momentarily before asking, "Haven't you ever just said 'screw tradition'? Ya know, gone against the book?"

Rukia nodded slowly, smiling slightly. "I have before, but my brother always wins. Theres just no arguing with him."

"Maybe you didn't try hard enough." Ichigo blandly stated. "Did you just give up without a fight?" He sighed warily when the girl nodded. "It's not his life to decide what happens in it. It's _yours_." Ichigo's brown eyes were intense, his voice holding no humor or sarcasm. "I know it might not be in your nature, but," He leaned towards Rukia, his hand wrapped around the pole to keep his balance. "I'll tell ya a secret. If you let your brother think he can control you, then he'll use it to his advantage. If you make it clear that you're in charge, then you'll be in good shape."

"You obviously haven't met my brother." Rukia sighed sadly. "He's just naturally in charge."

"No one's ever 'naturally in charge' of other people, Rukia. Lives are worth too much to just throw away like that. You only get one shot at life, and you should spend it with the person _you _want to be with, not with someone your brother picked out." Ichigo rested his head against the wooden pole, closing his eyes.

Rukia smiled. "Thank you, Ichigo."

Ichigo snorted, not bothering to open his eyes. "Whatev. Just go to sleep." He glanced at the petite girl as she laid down on the mat and closed her eyes, and Ichigo felt the first true smile in four years overtake his scowl.

* * *

**Awww, lil' Ichi smiled! We be makin' progress! Anyways, I'll update ASAP. **

**Review if ya want, but I won't make ya.**

**Until next time,**

**BANKAI!**


	4. Just For Tonight

_Probably gonna be my last update for two weeks, due to my little vacation in Florida next weekend XD. I went to the Georgia Renaissance festival with my friend, and I dressed up as a pirate. Everyone there (almost) was dressed up, so no one looked at my like I was a freak. That is until I wore it to Blockbuster so I could rent 'The Grudge' for me and my friend to watch. We ended up watching it twice, because his older sister decided to watch it with us. And I still managed to stay up 'till midnight to watch Bleach (yes, I watch the Adult Swim version)._

* * *

**_October 31, 1611_**

Soft rays of golden sun peaked over the treetops, extinguishing what little darkness had been left over from the previous night. The sunlight roused Ichigo from his sleep, and he groaned softly, shifting his weight against the wooden pole. His eyes remained shut, trying in vain to go back to sleep. His muscles, slightly cramped from his awkward sleeping position, tensed up when he felt an unfamiliar weight resting in his lap. Yawning, he opened his eyes and let his gaze wander to his lap where, low and behold, Rukia's head was resting.

Instead of moving away and waking her up like he knew he should have, Ichigo stopped as some foreign emotion twanged inside of him. By looking at her, he felt a small bit of warmth inside of him where it was normally cold. He was surprised by how peaceful she looked when she was sleeping, not like the stubborn she-demon he had met yesterday. He watched as Rukia gripped the legs of his pants, curling up close to him.

Ichigo felt something he hadn't felt in years. He felt something that seemed strange at first, so foreign to his body that he could hardly recognize it. He felt…_warmth_. He had only felt this way around his mother, a feeling of comfort that relaxed his whole body. Without thinking, he let his hand wander down to Rukia's face and brush a few stray hairs away from her closed eyes, a small smile playing on his face.

Wait, what the hell was he doing? He was supposed to be guarding her, not _fondling _her! His scowl returning, he unclasped her hands from the legs of his pants, but stopped when her hands gripped his. Snorting sharply, he gently pulled his hands away and laid her head down on her pack. Ichigo stood abruptly and strode to the small creek near the tent. He kneeled down next to the water and dipped his hands in, savoring the coolness. Cupping his hands, he splashed the crisp liquid onto his face, shuddering as the sudden blast of cold sent a shiver down his spine.

Shaking the water from his face, Ichigo glanced down at his reflection in the nearly unblemished water surface. What had he done back there? What in the hell was wrong with him? What he had felt back there had been so…so _nice_. He had felt different, better, like some weight inside of him had been lifted. Never had he felt so complete, at least since his mother had been murdered.

Ichigo silently scolded himself, sighing warily as he stood. This wasn't like him, to be turning into mush at the sight of a girl, and he didn't know whether he liked it or hated it. He looked into the sky and judged that, by the elevation of the sun, it must have been at lest seven o'clock. Running a calloused hand through his hair, he started back to the tent.

"Good morning, Ichigo," Rukia greeted, packing her belongings into her bag.

"Hn," Ichigo grunted in his rough façade, trademark scowl adorning his face. He walked over to the horse and pulled a map out of one of the saddlebags, and studied it intently. "We should make good time if we get moving soon and don't stop 'till sundown. Yesterday was light, we only made about four miles." He tapped his chin thoughtfully, and looked at the map. "If we make ten miles each day, then we should make it to Edo in half the time planned."

"Oh," Was the only reply he received. Something seemed to be bothering Rukia, and what it was, Ichigo didn't know. "Ichigo," Rukia looked up at the older man, gripping her pack tighter. "Could we possibly…stop somewhere on the way?"

The request didn't seem to phase Ichigo at first, and he agreed with the casual shrug of his shoulders. "Sure, where to?"

"Well, we'll need to travel a bit faster. It's about fifteen miles from here, along the same road," Rukia shifted her gaze uncomfortably, looking at her feet.

"And it's gotta be done today?" Ichigo looked at the small girl suspiciously, cocking an eyebrow before asking, "What is this place?"

"It's…it's a cemetery. A friend of mine is buried there. He died on this day about four years ago, and I always go there to visit him," Rukia put her pack on the horse's back, her voice suddenly quiet.

"I ain't got a problem with it, although," Ichigo scratched his chin thoughtfully, looking out at the road. "Getting there on time will present a bit of a problem. Guess we'll have to ride," Ichigo tightened the saddle and climbed onto the horse, extending his hand towards Rukia. "Well, ya comin'?"

"Uh, don't you think we'll be a little…heavy with all that other equipment?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes, quickly loosing his patience, "Not if we don't gallop the whole way there. Now c'mon."

Rukia hesitantly took hold of Ichigo's rough hand, letting out a meek yelp as the man effortlessly hoisted her onto the back of the horse behind him. She quickly wrapped her arms around his waist, their height off the ground slightly intimidating. She heard Ichigo chuckle, but couldn't see the grin playing on his face. He nudged the horse's sides, causing it to trot forward, and his grin widened as Rukia's grip on around his waist tightened and he felt her press her body against his back. "We're not that high up, ya know,"

Rukia disregarded the comment and replied softly, "I haven't been on a horse since my mom died. It's been such a long time,"

Ichigo scrunched his face up in an expression that resembled confusion and asked, "Really? Why's that?"

Rukia was thankful that Ichigo couldn't see the tears brimming her eyes, and answered almost inaudibly, "My mother used to take me riding all the time, but after her and my father died, my brother wouldn't let me ride anymore. He said that it wasn't proper,"

Ichigo's scowl returned at the girl's mention of her brother, whom Ichigo was already detesting. "Sound's like your brother's a real fun guy,"

Rukia smiled softly, looking at the dirt road beneath them. "Nii-sama isn't really bad, he's just…very closed minded. He just wants the best for me,"

"Regardless," Ichigo started, eyes cold, "That gives him no right to just be ordering you around like you're some kind of possession. No one has the right to decide someone else's future for them. This is _your _life, and you need to live it the way _you _want to, not the way your brother wants you to."

"Ichigo, please," Rukia buried her face into his back, hoping that the cloth of his kimono would soak up the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. "I just…I just wish you could understand where I am-"

"Rukia," Ichigo loudly interrupted, silencing her instantly, "The world works in one way. It doesn't matter whether you're a noble, or a slave, or a soldier, or anything. You're in charge of you life, and you decide your future. Not me, not your brother, not _anyone_. Remember this well, and don't ever forget it. Lives are worth so much more than that," Ichigo whispered, nearly inaudibly, "You're worth so much more than that."

Surprised, Rukia smiled and pressed the side of her face against Ichigo's back, hugging his waist affectionately before drifting off to sleep, "Thank you, Ichigo."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Rukia, wake up," The petite girl felt a massive hand gently shaking her shoulder, and her violet eyes drifted open. Her eyes came into contact with a pair of cold, amber eyes and a hard face, which was rather close to her own. She jumped back slightly when his warm breath brushed against her face when he spoke, voice low, "We're here."

Looking around, Rukia saw that she was resting against a large tree, the tent already standing and a fire already burning in a small pit. The sun was almost all the way down, the only form of light other than the right being the brilliant tendrils of pink and orange that streaked across the sky. Surrounding the left side of the camp were several tombstones protruding out of the earth, faint shadows falling to the ground beside them from the last traces of the sun's light.

The snapping of the fire abruptly brought Rukia back to attention. She stood, eyes gazing downwards, and faced the cemetery. "Would you like to come, Ichigo?"

The man shook his head, entwining his fingers and letting them rest behind his head as a makeshift pillow. "No, thank you. I think you'll be alright by yourself," Closing his eyes, Ichigo relaxed his body, sore from riding the whole day.

Nodding solemnly, Rukia wandered into the rows of tombstones, searching for the grave she visited every year. It didn't take too long to find, seeing as how she came to the same cemetery every year. Finding the familiar tombstone, she knelt down in front of it and bowed her head, closing her eyes. "Hello, Kaien-dono," She whispered, a small smile gracing her face.

"Nii-sama has arranged my marriage to be with Sosuke Aizen. I didn't think he was a bad person, until Ichigo told me about how his family had been killed by Aizen," Her smile grew wider, a tear trailing down the side of her face. "You would've like Ichigo, Kaien-dono. He seems so much like you, it's scary sometimes. He keeps telling me the same things you told me, about independence and living my life, and standing up to my brother, but," She bit her lip, holding back a small sob, "I've tried so hard to convince nii-sama that I don't want to marry a man I've never met before, but he won't listen,"

"Shiba Kaien, huh?" The voice startled Rukia, who jumped back slightly and turned around. Ichigo's brown eyes were studying the tombstone, his hands shoved into the pockets of his kimono. It was the end of October, and it was already beginning to freeze during the night, obvious evidence of this being Ichigo's breath forming in front of his face.

Rukia wiped her eyes, shaking her head and clearing her throat, "I thought you were going to stay back at the camp,"

"Ah, it got a little boring, and it looked like ya might've needed some company, so I decided to tag along," Ichigo turned his head and looked away, pretending not to care. "You ready to head back?"

"Y-yes, I'm ready," Rukia abruptly stood and began to walk back to the small camp, not looking away from Ichigo's eyes.

Sighing and shaking his head, Ichigo followed a safe distance behind her, studying her with a calm gaze. It had never occurred to him how difficult this whole ordeal must have been on Rukia. She was being forced to marry a man who was a coldhearted murderer, travel three hundred miles on foot to her clan's palace in Edo, her brother not caring about how she felt about the whole marriage, and to be doing it _alone_. Ichigo had been there before, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

Returning to the camp, Ichigo and Rukia sat near each other, neither of them bothering to speak. Ichigo looked at Rukia, who was staring at the snapping fire, and asked, "Kaien, who was he?"

Rukia seemed surprised by the question, but smiled softly nonetheless. "Kaien was a close friend of mine. He was a lieutenant in my brother's army who's squad was stationed by the palace, so I got to see him a lot. He was fun to talk to, always very friendly and gentle. But," She tore her eyes from Ichigo's and turned her head, trying to hide the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

"But?" Ichigo pressed gently, watching the small girl cautiously.

"I…I," Rukia closed her eyes, biting her lip, "I killed him. He died by my hands." The tears were pouring down her face, dripping onto her white kimono. "I-I didn't know what to do, I j-just pulled the sword up and," A strangled sob escaped her lips, halting her story.

Ichigo looked down into his lap, not wanting to face the sobbing girl. This was the only scenario he hadn't had to face in the past, and he had absolutely no idea how to handle it. He remembered one time, when his sisters had been younger, how Yuzu had had tripped and twisted her ankle, and Ichigo had been the only one home to deal with it. So he decided to deal with this the way he had dealt with his younger sister. He wrapped a strong arm around Rukia's shaking shoulders, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

The kind action surprised Rukia, ceasing her crying for a split second before burying her face into Ichigo's shoulder, gripping the front of his kimono. She quickly melted into his soft embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist. She had never felt so comfortable around anyone as she felt now, let alone with someone she had known for a day. His presence seemed to have a remarkable calming effect on her, who hadn't had a shoulder to cry on in several years.

This was strange for Ichigo, who had completely forgotten that he had a sensitive side. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, sighing into her hair. The swirl of emotions in his head, plus the current situation, was confusing him immensely. Letting his instincts take control of his actions, he pulled Rukia's sobbing form into his lap and leaned back against the tree.

Rukia buried her face into Ichigo's neck, her freely flowing tears dampening his bare skin. He was so different, so much more gentle than he had been the day before. She felt so immensely safe in his arms that she found her uncontrollable sobbing subsiding into tiny whimpers. Sniffling and wiping her tears off on the cloth of his kimono, Rukia curled up against Ichigo's firm chest, savoring the warmth his body emitted. Her eyelids were growing heavy, the faint sound the man's heartbeat lulling her to sleep. She closed her eyes and let Ichigo's comforting presence put her to sleep.

Ichigo bit his lip, trying to decide on what to do next. He could have gently carried her across the campsite and laid her down in the tent like he knew he was supposed to. But for some reason, he was completely ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that was urging him to do the right thing and sat there, staring at the girl sleeping in his arms. He knew that any kind of relationship with Rukia other than a solely professional one was strictly forbidden, yet he was finding himself unnaturally attracted to her. But in reality, he couldn't regret comforting her when she needed it.

Until just a few moments ago, Ichigo had never fully realized how much the girl needed someone who actually cared, someone who had been where she was, someone who could love her. Ichigo sighed and shook his head sadly, growling as his lack of self control. He was just a stupid fool who was being overtaken by the emotions he thought he had killed of long ago. This wasn't right, and he knew it. If they were caught in this position, the amount of trouble they'd both be in would be phenomenal. But, for some unknown reason, he felt that it _was _right, that he was doing both himself and Rukia some great favor. _Just for tonight_, Ichigo thought silently, closing his eyes, _Just for tonight, I'll hold her._

_

* * *

_

_Very tiring. Took me a good long while to write all this out. And now I gotta work on my vampire report in English class (feel free to ask; everyone else has). This chapter was nothin' but some fluffy fluff, which is my best writing subject._

_Review if ya want, but I won't make ya._


	5. Open Wounds

Whew. I have absolutely NO time to write, 'cause my friend's gonna pick me up in, like, ten minutes (he's making a big deal about my birthday being tomorrow, but since I'm not going t be here, he's making me go with him to Books a Million so he can get me my present). Anyways, I've gotta go, so you enjoy the story!

* * *

_**Novemeber 7, 1611**_

A week had passed since the night at the cemetery, and it had been one of the strangest weeks of Ichigo's life. That night had dug up feelings and emotions he had forgotten had even existed within him, things that reminded him that he was still a human. Emotions that quickened the pace of his long-cold heart, emotions that seemed to be gently easing the scattered pieces of his life back together, emotions that made him seem like he actually had some purpose on the earth. What that purpose was, he really didn't know, but it was comforting to know that he actually had one.

Ichigo had almost expected the rest of his and Rukia's time together to be awkward, or at the very least uncomfortable. But, much to his surprise, the past week had been much more enjoyable than he had initially expected. Instead of avoiding each other like he had presumed, they talked freely to one another, sharing stories from their lives, most of which being from their childhoods. It had never occurred to his that a person who had lived as a noble all of their life would have such interesting personal accounts.

It had made Ichigo happy that, despite her current situation, he could comfort Rukia the way he had that night at the cemetery. Holding the girl in his arms had turned his mind into a swirl of emotions that had been foreign to his body for what had seemed like centuries. But, he had felt complete, like his disheveled shadow of a life had come together for one peaceful night. In the same instance, however, the feelings he found himself having for the girl made him question his self control, or what little bit of it was left.

It had been the best thing Ichigo had ever felt, to be able to hold Rukia and offer her comfort in her time of need. But since then, he had tried to avoid any moments like that, instances that would complicate the simple mission that Renji had given him. For both his and Rukia's sake, he would deny himself what he wanted, no, _needed_ the most, and keep their "relationship" strictly professional. But there was only so much of this that he could take, and he wasn't sure how long he would be able to hold out before his wants took control of his actions.

Ichigo let out a sleepy sigh as the crisp evening air gusted into his face, stinging his amber eyes. Leaning against the trunk of a tree on the side of the dirt road, he looked into the sky as the setting sun sent blazes of brilliant oranges, pinks, and purples through the western sky. A few stars faintly dotted the darkened sky, a crescent moon becoming visible over the tops of the trees. The massive scar on his back had began bothering him only hours before, and had gradually become more sore throughout the day.

A painful groan escaped his lips as a fresh wave of pain shot across his back, from his right hip to his left shoulder. Closing his eyes, his rested his forehead against the rough bark of the tree. His shoulder muscles flinched instinctively when he felt a small hand faintly touch the cloth-covered skin. The soft touch eased the pain to the point where it was bearable, but still there. He opened one of his eyes and looked at Rukia, who was touching the scarred shoulder lightly with her fingertips. "Ichigo?"

"It's nothing." He offered her no room to ask any other questions, gently removing her hand from his shoulder. Trying his best to hide the pained look in his eyes, Ichigo walked over to the horse he had recently strung to a tree branch and pulled out the white fabric of the tent and wooden stakes and a pole.

Ichigo's vision began blurring as he kneeled down to begin erecting the tent, banging the wooden stakes into the ground with the sheath of his sword, the massive aching growing stronger with each agonizing second. All he could concentrate on was the burning pain ripping across his back, sweat forming on his brow. In what had seemed like several hours, but was really only a few minutes, he had the tent standing, a raspy sigh escaping his lips as he leaned against the pole. "Here," He rasped, his breathes heavy, "It's ready."

Rukia sent a worried glance as Ichigo's weak form, the tip of the scar peaking out from the collar of his kimono. She knelt down next to him when he hissed in pain, placing her hand on his shoulder. She saw his eyes, glazed over in pain, and whispered, "Ichigo, what is it?"

"It-it's nothing, just my scar." Ichigo groaned, wiping his brow.

Rukia gasped when she saw a long line of maroon streaking across his back. "Ichigo, it's bleeding." She gently put an arm around his waist and attempted to help him up, slowly guiding him into the tent. His breaths were labored, his eyes thick with exhaustion and pain, sweat glazing his brow. "Why didn't you tell me it was hurting? We could've stopped sooner."

"It always does this." Ichigo replied, coughing lightly. "It never completely healed, so it'll open every now and then. It almost always hurts, though, so I never really give it any thought. I just-" A sharp, hoarse cough racked his body, more blood seeping through the fabric. "Got used to it after a while."

Sighing, Rukia sat Ichigo down on the mat, still keeping an arm around his waist. The petite girl moved behind him and studied the bloodstained cloth with visible displeasure. Softly putting a hand on the line of blood, she quickly eased the weight on his back when his breath hitched in his throat. Looking back at the small girl with intense brown eyes, he asked in an unnaturally raspy voice, "Rukia, what're you doing?"

"I can't treat this wound with your shirt on, so you'll have to take it off," Rukia replied, pulling a small bottle of ointment and bandages from her bag.

Ichigo gave the girl a skeptical look before reluctantly taking the top of his kimono off, holding it in his lap. He absolutely refused to make any kind of eye contact with Rukia what so ever, looking at the solid white of the tent wall.

Rukia's jaw nearly dropped when she saw Ichigo without his shirt on. Thick bands of muscle stretched across his chest, abdomen, and arms, much more defined than when they were hidden behind his black kimono. A jagged scar ran across his muscular abdomen, running from the hip opposite the scar on his back to the lower part of his chest. Several other scars, mostly unnoticeable, streaked across his defined torso.

The scar on Ichigo's back was the most gruesome Rukia had ever seen, wider and deeper than what she had initially thought it to be. It had broken open in three places, small lines of blood trickling down his bare back towards his waist. He shifted in obvious discomfort, hissing in pain when the scarred tissue split open even more. Crimson colored liquid seeped from the wound, sending another tendril of bright red blood down his back. Wincing sympathetically, Rukia used a piece of cloth to gently wipe away the streaks of blood. "Lay down on your stomach so I can clean your wound."

Ichigo looked back at the small girl with a hesitant stare before laying down on his stomach, rolling muscles pushing pulses of blood out of the wound. An agonized grimace on his face, Ichigo positioned himself on the mat so that his chin rested on his crossed arms. The tight muscles in his back instinctively twitched when he felt Rukia's fingertips lightly trace the horrendous scar, skipping over the open areas. The scar started out thin and shallow at the top of his shoulder, gradually deepening and widening before returning to look much like its beginning at his hip.

Retrieving a small canteen from her bag, Rukia poured half of its chilled contents onto the long wound, the blood washing away onto the strips of cloth she had placed on either side of him. Putting some of the ointment on her fingertips, she gently placed them on the top of his shoulder and ran them downwards over the scar, rubbing the cream over Ichigo's wound until it blended in with his slightly tanned skin.

Ichigo groaned and buried his sweaty face in his arms when Rukia rubbed the cream into his open wounds, an acute stinging sensation spreading throughout his back. The pain spread down his back as the cream continued to mix within his wounds, causing him nearly bite into the flesh of his arm to try and ease the agony. He opened his bleary eyes and turned his head slightly to face Rukia when she gently whispered, "Did Aizen really do this to you?"

"You think I'd lie about where I got that godforsaken scar on my back?" Ichigo asked, his voice much more harsh than he had wished for it to be. He wordlessly closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against his arms, trying to ignore the searing pain.

Rukia looked down at her lap and quietly replied, "N-no, it's just that…"

"Don't bother," Ichigo commanded roughly, picking his head up and staring at the bland tent wall. "It's not your fault, you don't need to explain anything. You're just trying to help." He tensed his body as he felt Rukia's fingers leave his back and the crisp water hitting his skin, expecting it to sting as it had before. But instead, a soothing feeling crept down his scar, his muscles immediately relaxing.

"Has it stopped stinging?" Rukia whispered, her breath brushing against Ichigo's ear.

Coughing lightly, Ichigo replied in a hoarse voice, "Yes, it has. What was that stuff?"

Rukia gently pulled Ichigo into a sitting position, beginning to wrap the white bandages around his defined torso before replying, "It was a type of cream that cleans the wound and soothes it when it is mixed with water. My mother used to put it on my cuts and scrapes when I fell down while playing. It's a real good thing that it's not stinging anymore,"

"Why's that?" Ichigo asked, turning his head to look at the petite girl behind him.

"Because if it had kept on stinging after I put the water on, it would have meant that your wound was infected. I'm surprised that it's not, considering how you let it bleed whenever it opens." Rukia tightened the bandages before beginning to tie a new roll around Ichigo's bare abdomen. She felt his muscles twitch when her hand brushed against the tender scar, causing Ichigo to wince in discomfort. " Oh, sorry. I'll try to be more gentle."

"No." Ichigo shook his head, halting the girl's apologies. "No, you're fine. It always hurts when something touches it."

"How could Aizen have done all this to you?" Rukia asked, gently putting a hand on Ichigo's back.

"Aizen doesn't give a shit about anyone else's life," Ichigo growled while standing up, his back facing Rukia. "Don't marry him, Rukia. You gotta find some way-"

"What _way_, Ichigo?!" Rukia burst, turning the orange haired man to face her. "You've been preaching to me for over a week on how I should stand up for myself and live my life how and with who I want, but guess what," Her violet eyes were brimming with tears, agony coating her words, "It's easier said than done! You've never met my brother, you have no clue what he's like! You have no clue what I'm going through!"

With one swift movement, Ichigo grabbed her wrist in a solid, iron-like grip and pulled her to his bandaged chest. His once drowsy amber eyes were unimaginably cold, filled with resentment and anger that had been bottled up since they day they departed for Edo. By the stern look on his face, the petite girl could tell that Ichigo no longer sympathized with her plight. He slowly bent his head down and whispered in a menacing tone, "Don't you ever tell me that I don't know about what you're going through."

Rukia couldn't tell whether it was Ichigo's hot breath brushing against her ear or the deadly tone with which he made his command that was sending shivers down her spine. Full realization on how badly she must have wounded him with her words struck her, and she instantly regretted the mindless outburst. "I-Ichigo, I'm,"

"I've lost everything, Rukia. _Everything_. I've gone to prison for trying to defend the honor of my family and avenge their deaths. I've been cut down with every kind of blade imaginable. I've suffered through every kind of pain you could possibly think of. I've thought about killing myself thousands of times. And I've done it all _alone_." His words became softer, but his grip on her wrist remained unbreakable. "Even if my life is not the same as yours, I have suffered the same way you have. We've both lost everything, and we both know what it's like."

Ichigo's hold on the petite girl's wrist loosened, and her hand slid into his. His head was still bent next to hers, lips dangerously close to her ear. Holding her small hand in his rough and calloused one, he whispered kindly, "Seeing you suffer like this hurts me, because I know how it feels to suffer like that. If you can't find a way to convince your brother that Aizen is not fit to marry you," Ichigo put a hand behind the small girl's head, pressing her face against his shoulder, "Then I'll find one for you."

"Ichigo, you can't!" Rukia buried her face into his shoulder, the warmth of his bare skin helping to hold back her tears. "If you interfere with my brother, he'll throw you in some prison, or…or,"

"I'm not one to sit back and watch when someone's act is negatively effecting someone else's life. Or is it that you want to marry Aizen, that my accounts of him have only boosted your liking of him?"

"N-no, it's just that…"

"Then make your choice. Either you do it, or I'll do it for you." Ichigo rested his chin on the top of her head. "I'll be right there with you, either way. You have nothing to worry about, he won't be able to hurt you or force you into it." A small smile overtook his scornful look, his strong arms encircling Rukia's small body. "I'll make sure of it."

* * *

Now, if you've read _Forgiveness_, you know that when I say that I won't be able to update, I'll probably update (no clue? Just read my author's notes). I'll try to update once I get back from Florida (Tuesday). I promise!

BANKAI!


	6. To Protect And Defend

_Yay! I'm back from Florida! With a tan! Yes, it was fun, but as soon as I got back (last Monday) it was time to hit the books and study for my exams this week. Downside: Exams this week. Bummer, right? Plus side: Last week of school! Huzzah! That means I'll be going to my Papa's (that what we call him :D) house up in Toledo, Ohio (right next to Michigan). I'll probably be able to get a crapload of work done on my stories, so I'll have a way to pass the time._

_Oh, yeah! And how many of you have seen the TV show 'Robin Hood' on BBC America (or at all, BBC is the station I get with Directv)? First season box set out in June! I am a happy person!_

* * *

_Novemeber 21, 1611_

Ichigo stared in disbelief at the pathway ahead of them. "No way in hell…" Tall, jagged sections of gray rock stuck out on the wide borders of the dirt trail, forming the beginning of the mountain pass that led to Edo. He and Rukia would have proceeded to enter the pass had it not been for the unpredicted obstacle that stood in their way. A monstrous pile of boulders blocked the trail into the mountain pass, towering over the two like a giant castle wall.

"How in the name of…" Ichigo let his voice trail off as he continued to stare at the barrier. Both he and Rukia knew very well that, whether they spent the whole day and night moving boulders out of the way, that the obstacle was virtually impenetrable. Scratching the back of his head, the orange-haired man looked at the mass of rocks, then at the path that led to the west, then back at the rocks. "Well, Rukia," He turned his head, eyes dull with defeat, and grunted, "Looks like were gonna have to take the scenic route."

Nodding wordlessly, Rukia looked past Ichigo at the tower of boulders. _'How could this have happened? Rockslides are so rare throughout here,'_ "Hey!" The loud voice snapped the petite girl from her thoughts, her violet eyes looking down the path leading to the west at Ichigo.

"Ya, comin'?"

"Y-yes! Be right there!" Rukia jogged to Ichigo standing at his side as they began to walk down the pathway. She managed to steal a few glances at his face, briefly studying the amber eyes, the orange hair, the scowl that constantly seemed to adorn his face, and the other numerous details of his face. It was almost as if he had two personalities, the kinder, softer one only coming out when the raven-haired girl was distressed.

It scared Rukia sometimes that, despite how she thought she had Ichigo figured out, he would surprise her with some unexpected act of sympathy or kindness. He had initially come across as a stubborn, no-nonsense, cold samurai who detested the world, but as they had begun to get to know each other, that ended up not being the case. He was calm, and was careful with his words. He was gentle and checked his actions, always carefully assessing his situations.

Rukia had never met someone who cared so much about her future. What would possess Ichigo, who's job was only to get her to Edo, to encourage her to defy her brother and follow her own path? She could clearly remember two weeks ago how he had held her against his firm chest, holding her wrists in an unbreakable grasp, and whispered into her ear. _"If you can't find a way to convince your brother that Aizen is not fit to marry you, then I'll find one for you." _She shivered as she remembered the feel of his hot breath against the side of her face, his lips brushing against her ear.

"Rukia," Ichigo glanced down at Rukia briefly before returning his gaze to the setting sun, a brilliant color of orange, hanging over the tops of the tree-covered mountains. "Kaien, that man you were talking about," He stopped, searching for the words delicate enough to use. "How… how did he die?"

"Oh, Kaien-dono," Rukia's violet eyes quickly became saddened, her gaze shifting from Ichigo to her feet. "The night he died, there was a crazed intruder who had escaped from the prison and broke into the palace. Kaien-dono had a regulation sword for soldiers and a small dagger, which he gave to me when the intruder began chasing us. He told me to run into the woods and hide until he came to get me. I don't know how long I waited for. It could have been five minutes, or five hours,"

Ichigo stopped, putting a large hand on Rukia's shoulder. "Don't talk about it if it bothers you." He gently commanded, looking into her violet eyes. "I hate seeing you cry, Rukia."

"No, no," The petite girl gently took the older man's hand off of her shoulder, holding it with both of hers. "I need to talk about it. Anyways, I heard footsteps, like someone was running towards me. I…I ran, and began to panic when whoever it was gained on me. I…I don't know, I turned and held the dagger up, and when I opened my eyes, I saw that…that I had stabbed Kaien-dono."

Ichigo smiled faintly, pressing his face against her raven hair. "You're a very strong person, Rukia. I'm sure Kaien would be proud of the person that you are today."

Smiling, Rukia silently savored the warmth Ichigo's body emitted before replying, "No, I'm nothing compared to you. You've lost everything, I…" She let her voice trail off, her forehead pressed against his shoulder. "I'm nothing."

"No." Ichigo pulled back and looked into her watery violet eyes, cupping the side of her face. "You are very, _very_ strong, stronger than anyone I've ever met, stronger than I am," He smiled kindly and took a step forward, before turning around again, "You're not like any other person I've met, Rukia. You certainly fall into a class all your own."

"Thank you, Ichigo." Rukia leaned against his lean body, relishing his heady scent.

"No problem." Ichigo's voice was kind and playful, the voice that Rukia knew he used when he was truly happy. This feeling in the pit of Ichigo's stomach, the warmth that spread throughout his body every time he looked at the petite girl, confused the orange-haired man. He had become so fond of Rukia, that he had to question whether or not he could bear to see her marry someone else. _Did _he love her? Did he really, truly, without a shadow of a doubt love her? After a brief moment of thought, Ichigo had decided on an answer.

"Rukia, I need to tell you something," A twig snapped behind them, causing Ichigo's amber eyes to narrow almost instantly. He pushed Rukia behind him, staring intently into the forest. His cold eyes scanned the wooded area, his body not moving and inch from the spot where his feet were firmly planted.

Rukia peaked out from behind Ichigo's broad body, gripping the back of his black kimono. His entire body had become tense and rigid; it seemed almost as if he was holding his breath. He slowly reached his hand behind him and gripped the petite girl's shoulder protectively, not breaking his stare at the forest. "Ichigo, what-"

"Shh." Ichigo tightened his grip on her shoulder, speaking just above a whisper, "Don't move." Wrapping his other hand around the handle of his sword, he straightened, his defined muscles still tense, and called out in a fierce, intimidating shout, "Alright, whoever the hell's out there, get your asses out on this road and fight me like a man!"

Coarse, raucous laughter rose up from the forest on either side of the path, the sound sending frightened shivers up Rukia's spine. She gripped the cloth of Ichigo's kimono, pressing her cheek to the side of his ribcage as she looked out from behind him in horror as several tall, scarred, ferocious men slowly strode out of the woods. All of them had some form or fashion of blade in their hands, the edges nicked and scratched from obvious over-usage. The man who had stepped out first, a long, curved blade in his right hand, sneered at Ichigo, his gray eyes narrowing when the orange-haired man gave a low growl. "You got somethin' t' say, boy?"

"Get the hell out of our way." The command was stern and forceful, Ichigo's cold amber eyes conveying that he was in no mood for any other kind of obstacles that day.

Another torrent of laughter rose up from the men, some beginning to advance on the two in the road. In a mocking tone, the one Ichigo took to be the leader asked, "And just what the hell is gonna make us move, eh? You and that sword of yours, _boy_?"

"Rukia," Ichigo whispered, his eyes not leaving the five men in their path. "If anything, _anything_, happens to me, take my sword and _run_. Don't stop for anything or anyone, you hear me?"

"What do you mean if anything happens to you?" Rukia shook Ichigo's body slightly, pulling on the back of his kimono. "I'm not going to just leave you here if you get wounded, Ichigo!"

"I wasn't asking you if you would, I was _telling _you that you would. I-"

"You two love birds done saying your good-byes yet?" The leader twisted his sword in his hand, his rotting, yellow teeth showing in his crooked sneer. Ichigo's enraged eyes met his in a fierce glare, his arm holding her close to his side. He drew his sword out of its sheath with his other hand, the tension in the air virtually suffocating. The leader snickered, pointing a deformed stump that was once his index finger at Ichigo. "Get 'em."

Ichigo's brown eyes darted to and from each of the men, his and Rukia's space to find an escape shrinking rapidly. He knew for a fact that he couldn't five heavily armed men while protecting his companion. The distraction of watching her would be to great; he would be wounded for sure. _Exit, exit, exit, _The chant repeated itself inside his mind, a small feeling of panic building inside of his gut when he realized that there was no way out of the fight that ensued. He pulled the petite girl against his side, his arm encircling her shoulders. He slowly began to walk backwards across the road, gently pulling the girl with him. Bending his head down to her ear, he whispered nearly inaudibly, "Take my sword and get out of here _now_."

Rukia stared incredulously at Ichigo as he held the sword out for her to take. "Are you _insane_? There's no way I'm leaving y-"

"I don't have time to argue with you, Rukia." Ichigo's voice was sharp and cold, his grip on her shoulders tightening forcefully. "This isn't your decision; it's mine. Now _take it_."

Nervously, Rukia put her hand on the handle of the blade, her fingers brushing against Ichigo's open palm. She gripped the cloth-covered handle, holding it close to the hilt. The sword was surprisingly heavy, the weight pulling her hand down. Ichigo's large hand closed around her small fist, helping to support the blade's weight. "Don't worry about me, I can handle myself."

Tightening her grip on the sword, Rukia briefly pressed her face against Ichigo's side. "Please be careful."

Ichigo smiled warmly, taking a defensive stance in front of her. He removed his sheath from his sash and held it up as he would a sword. "When I make an opening, _run_." His mouth opened again in an attempt to continue, but was cut off when a blade struck his sheath, a small flurry of orange sparks shooting up from the point of impact. A strained grunt floated from his lips and he shoved his aggressor off, the man stumbling backwards. His eyes darted to one of the men who charged at Rukia, and grabbed the blade with his bare hand. Blood began to trickle down his fist and arm, his grip on the sword tight. He drew back a closed fist and punched the attacker in the nose, a sickening crunch splitting the air. He yanked the sword from the man's hand and plunged it into his chest, a spray of blood hitting the orange-haired man's face and clothes.

With only four left, Ichigo turned just as two of the attackers ran at him. He swung the sheath of his sword, the unpredicted move shocking both of the men. The metal sheath collided with one of the aggressor's necks, a sharp snap signaling that the neck had been broken and that he was dead. As Ichigo turned to face his other opponent, one of the men jumped onto his back, pulling his arm around his neck and yanking back harshly. The orange-haired man used the sword he had taken from the dead man's body and shoved it into the other attacker's stomach, turning his head to face Rukia. "Rukia! Run, now! Get outta here!" He bit back a howl of pain as a sharp blade tore into his shoulder, cutting through the skin and muscle, down to the top of his ribcage.

The raven-haired girl stood still, a form of paralysis overtaking her body. If she ran away, Ichigo would die. If she stayed, however, they might have a small chance of living. Her feet wouldn't move, her mouth wouldn't form any words. She was so terrified, of what she did not know, and couldn't react. She only watched helplessly as the leader delivered bone shattering punches to Ichigo's stomach, the orange-haired man doubling over in pain. A punch hit his jaw, snapping his head backwards. He turned his head and yelled, blood trickling down from the corner of his mouth, "Rukia! Get out _now_!"

Not thinking, Rukia ran forward towards Ichigo's attackers. She clumsily slashed downwards, stumbling slightly, trying to control the weight of the blade. She clenched her eyes shut as she expected the blade to make contact with the flesh of Ichigo's attackers, but felt the downward swing stop short, she sound of metal crashing against metal ringing in her ears. The leader had pulled his blade up, stopping Rukia's futile attempt to rescue Ichigo. He grinned menacingly, yellow teeth showing through chapped, darkened lips. He roughly grabbed the petite girl's wrists and gripped tightly, causing the girl to yelp in pain. The leader held his blade against her throat, sneering at her helpless form.

Enraged, Ichigo fought out of his captor's hold, snapping his neck in the process, and barreled into the leader, sending them both toppling into the dirt. Ichigo landed on his wounded shoulder, a pained growl escaping his lips. Coughing, he pulled himself to his knees and looked over to see the leader already on his feet, sword raised, running towards Rukia. He grabbed his sword and jumped to his feet, not caring about anything other than protecting Rukia.

The raven-haired girl shut her eyes, waiting for the enemy's blade to tear into her skin. Nothing. She cracked her eyes open to see a black-clad man with orange hair standing in front of her, his body rigid. "I-Ichigo?" She touched his back, then gasped as the leader fell to the ground in front of Ichigo, blood pooling around him. The orange-haired man's body was still tense, standing perfectly still. "Ichigo?" She repeated, shaking his body.

"Y-you fool," Blood fell to the ground, a choked cough escaping his bloodied lips. He let his blood-covered sword drop to the ground, more of the crimson liquid dripping out of the large wound in his chest and mixing with the dirt. "I…told you…" He fell to the ground, his eyes shutting, "To _run_."

* * *

Gotta study for my exams now. If I do good on them, I'll probably be able to pull an A in math (my best class all year, save for the last four-and-a-half weeks). I need input on when I should update my stories: Friday or Sunday?

Review if ya want, but I won't make you.


	7. By Your Side

He was dead. He knew that there was no way on earth he could have survived. Funny, he expected death to feel cold, freezing, in fact. But no, some unseen source was sending waves of warmth to his body. Maybe he was in hell; he had his fair share of people tell him that he was going to end up there. No, it couldn't be hell; hell was supposed to burning hot, not comfortably warm. But he was completely numb, proving that he was, in fact, probably dead. Just to prove it to himself, Ichigo tried to sit up, to look around the black abyss that he assumed was death. He immediately gave up as a bolt of sharp pain shot across his chest, causing him to lay back down. _Guess I'm not dead after all, _he thought silently.

Ichigo's eyes slowly opened, the amber orbs foggy from the pain and the deep sleep he had been in for God-knows how long. A fire was snapping next to him, sparks lifting from the flames before dissipating into the cold night air. He shifted uncomfortably on the mat beneath his body, swallowing the thick saliva that had built up in his throat. He looked around, his vision slightly blurred, and tried desperately to remember how he had gotten where he was. The last thing he could remember was hearing a _snap _coming from the forest before…_shit_.

He looked around the campsite, a wave of panic flooding his senses as his looked for his companion. A relived sigh escaped his lips as his eyes rested on Rukia, her back turned to him, looking through a pack. He had done his job by protecting her, and that made him fell like he had a purpose. The small smile that rested on his face was ripped off as he erupted into a violent coughing fit, his body shaking furiously. The hoarse noise that came from his mouth immediately got Rukia's attention, her head turning to face the wounded man. Her violet eyes were a mix of relief and anxiousness, staring intently into Ichigo's brown orbs.

"Rukia?" The orange-haired whispered, his voice rough and cracked. He cleared his throat, the act causing an acute pain to stab his chest. He adjusted himself on the mat, wincing as the movements sent pain through his tense muscles. Hesitating briefly, he searched for the right question for that delicate moment before asking, "You're not hurt, are you?"

The petite girl shook her head, eyes closed, before replying, "No, no I'm not." She removed a small heap of bandages from the bag and turned around to face Ichigo. She took his wounded hand and examined the large cut, probing the tender red flesh surrounding the wound to be sure that it had stopped bleeding. The orange-haired man's fingers twitched occasionally, the girl's probing of the sensitive wound sending small streaks of pain across his hand and up his arm. She frowned apologetically as her companion's breath hitched in his throat, a result of the pain, before murmuring, "Sorry, it'll hurt a little."

"S'okay, don't worry about it." Ichigo's gaze wandered to her hands, which held his wounded one, wrapping it gently in the soft white bandages. It didn't take very long for the small roll of white cloth to run out, the raven-haired girl slipping the end of the bandage into the several layers wrapping around the man's palm to keep it from coming loose. Still holding his hand in hers, she ran her fingers gently across his cloth-covered palm, from the tips of his fingers to the bottom of his hand. "Do you need anything, Ichigo?"

"Can I have some water?" His voice had returned to normal, still soft from his weakened state. He took the canteen that Rukia handed him with his free hand and drank only a small amount, a drop trickling from the corner of his mouth. He set the canteen down and wiped the water from his mouth, letting his hand rest on his chest. He found that his shirt had been removed and his wounds wrapped in bandages, a thin blanket covering the bottom half of his body. "How long've I been out for?"

"Only a few hours. You really should go back to sleep, your wounds are still healing." Rukia gently urged, still softly stroking Ichigo's open palm.

Ichigo looked away, feeling slightly ashamed for some unknown reason. "Rukia," He looked back up, holding her hand, "Are you mad at me?"

The petite girl stared back at him with obvious surprise. She opened her mouth, the beginning of a word half-spoken, before shaking her head, "No."

"Please don't give me that." Ichigo entwined his fingers with hers, halting her attempt to move away. "I can tell just by looking at you. There's obviously something that I've done, or haven't done, to make you uncomfortable around me." His frown deepened when Rukia did not answer, turning her head to avoid any kind of eye contact with him. "C'mon, Rukia, _please _don't do this to me now. If there's something I've done wrong, then tell me so I can fix it."

"Why do you think you're lying there half-dead, Ichigo?" Rukia's eyes held a mixture of sorrow, anguish, and pain, the violet orbs brimming with tears. "_That's _what you've done. You went and nearly got yourself killed without thinking about any of the consequences! It's like you didn't care whether or not you died!"

"Oh, well _sorry _for doing my job!" Ichigo snapped back, voice thick with scornful sarcasm as he sat up against a tree behind him. He grabbed Rukia's wrist in an unbreakable grip as she tried to move away and pulled her to him, their faces only inches apart. "What sin against God did I commit by protecting you? Yeah, sure, I got a little beat up in the process, but big whoop. Did you want to die? Is that why you're so mad at me for defending you? Tell me Rukia, because I need to know now."

"You almost _died_, Ichigo!" She pushed her fists against his bare chest, trying in vain to break out of his grip. "That wound on your shoulder. It passed right over your heart. Any deeper, and you would have died! It wasn't part of your job to get killed!"

"It wasn't part of my job to fall in love with you, either. But guess what, it happened." Ichigo's hot breath crashed against the petite girl's face, a mix of emotion burning within his amber eyes.

Rukia leaned back, eyes wide with surprise. "Wh…what?"

"You want to know why I did what I did, Rukia?" Ichigo released her wrists, but she did not move away. Their lips lingered only mere centimeters apart, their heavy breathing drifting to the face of their partner. Using the back of his bandaged hand, he brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face, cupping it softly. He leaned his head forward, the distance between their lips shrinking. He paused briefly, their lips barely touching, trying to decide whether or not this was the right thing to do. He whispered softly, almost inaudibly, his breath caressing her face, "Because I love you."

Pushing any form of doubt into the back of his mind, Ichigo softly claimed her lips with his own. There was nothing demanding or rough about the kiss, nothing that was lust-filled in any way. It was gentle and light, nothing that would indicate any kind of rushing on either of their parts. Everything seemed to stop, even their breathing ceasing in the moment. Growing bolder, Ichigo wrapped his other arm around the petite girl's waist, holding her body close to his.

This was so, undeniably wrong, and Rukia knew it. She knew she should pull back, break the kiss, stop what was happening, but she didn't. The feel of Ichigo's lips gently pressed against her own, the warmth radiating off of his body, kept her from pulling back. Her mind was a cyclone of emotions and thoughts, not being able to decipher what her mind wanted her to do. The warmth in her stomach spread throughout her body, only making her want more. But, no matter what she wanted, she was going to be married when they reached Edo, and this would only make it all the more difficult to bare. She pulled back, shaking her head, the whole situation pushing her to the breaking point. "I-Ichigo, I'm sorry…but I can't do this."

Ichigo seemed surprised, but he was expecting this reaction all along. It was wrong for him to be feeling this way, and she knew it was wrong to be feeling this way, too. But this was so important to him. It meant more than anything to him, and he needed to fight for it. Still holding Rukia securely in his arms, he swallowed the nervous lump that had formed in his throat before speaking, "Rukia, I-"

"Please, Ichigo," She begged, pressing her forehead to his bare shoulder, tears threatening to spill from her violet eyes. "Please don't make this any harder than it has to be. I…I want this just as much as you do, but I can't-"

"You're doing it again, Rukia." Ichigo's voice was soft, but his accusation was deathly serious. "You're letting your brother control you. You're saying exactly what he would want you to say."

"What else should I say, Ichigo?" This was becoming too much for Rukia to bare. She wanted to be with Ichigo. God knows she wanted to so bad, but she knew that it would never work out. Her brother would do everything in his power to keep it from happening, and she knew that to be a fact. And knowing Byakuya, the punishment he inflicted in Ichigo, no matter how unjust it was, would be cruel and inhumane.

"Look," Ichigo took Rukia's hands in his, the span of his hands nearly encompassing her own. "Just forget about it. Forget about your brother, forget about Aizen, forget about _everything_, and just think. Think that if none of this was going on, if you didn't have to get married, if you weren't a noble, would you stay with me?"

"Ichigo, please-"

"Please, just hear me out." Ichigo's request silenced Rukia. He briefly paused, searching for the right words before immediately continuing, "I know that is isn't right, and that you probably don't care for me, but…this, this is _real_. This is the first thing in forever that has been real to me, and I need to know if you feel the same way. I know…I know I sound like a complete lunatic, and I know that you probably don't care about what I have to say, but you…you're so real to me, and I…can't even think about you marrying Aizen, or having anything to do to with him. I know you don't want to think about it either. And…you just gotta believe me when I say that I love you, because God, I do. So, just for two minutes, forget about everything except for us, and answer my question. Do you feel the same way?"

"Ichigo…I do. I feel the same exact way you do, and even more, but…this…this is just too much. There's no way-"

"Rukia," Ichigo held her close, gently nuzzling her hair. "This is your chance. You don't need to marry Aizen, and you know it. Just think about this for a few minutes. Do you want to marry Aizen?" He asked, cupping her face with both of his hands. Rukia silently shook her head, clinging to Ichigo's bandages for support. "Do you want to be with me?" He lightly kissed her forehead as she nodded, holding her close in a strong embrace. "Then stay with me. We'll go to Edo and talk about this with your bro-"

"My brother will kill you if you try to interfere! You can't-"

"Rukia," Ichigo murmured into her hair comfortingly. He pulled back and cupped her face, using his thumb to wipe away a tear trailing down her cheek. "You are the best thing to happen to me in years. You are the most important thing to me, and I'm willing to fight for you. Yeah, your brother might throw me in jail, he may even kill me, but I'm going to take that chance." He leaned his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes. "Are you willing to take a chance on me?"

Rukia nodded, placing her hand over Ichigo's. She leaned against his chest, putting her arms around his waist and laying her head against his shoulder. "You'll be there with me, right? The whole time?" She whispered into his bare skin, savoring the warmth his broad body emitted.

Ichigo smiled warmly and bent his head down, his lips gently brushing against Rukia's. Time paused yet again in the brief moment that their lips made contact, a euphoric sensation of warmth spreading throughout their bodies. Ichigo pulled back, his breath gently caressing the petite girl's face, before replying, "The whole time. I'll be right next to you. I'll be right next to you, and I'll never leave your side."


	8. Lost Memories

Went back and put dates in on the other chapters. I went back and read some of them without the dates, and it got a little confusing. So there, I really have nothing else to say, other than enjoy!

* * *

November 22, 1611

A rough, hoarse cough shook Ichigo's entire body violently. His eyes were burning and watery, his vision blurred to the point where he couldn't recognize anything. His lungs burned as if they were on fire, completely distorting all of his senses. His mouth was unbearably dry, and his throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper, the constant irritation causing him to burst into violent coughing fits. He had very little, if no, strength, rendering his arms and legs virtually useless. All he could do was lay on his back and absorb the pain, wave after intolerable wave. An acute stab of pain shot through his chest, following the length of the wound he had received the previous day.

The pain increasing, searing through his body like a white-hot poker, Ichigo grabbed at his bandaged chest, desperately clawing at the layers of cloth encompassing his wounds. His senses ceased to work; his sane mind was being torn apart by sharp spasms of unbearable pain. In that moment, it dawned on him that he was now an insane wounded swordsman with nothing more to his name than a blade and a few pairs of clothes, not the calm, cool, and collected samurai he was the day before. To the wounded Ichigo, who's mind refused to function correctly, the bandages were causing the pain. _Get the bandages off, dammit! _was the chant repeating inside of his head.

Ichigo's hands formed claws, desperately tugging and pulling at the tightly-bound bloodstained bandages. He began to panic, his mind realizing that he wasn't breathing; he had stopped breathing and couldn't remember how to breathe. His body writhed and cringed in a mixture of pain and alarm, his inner voice screaming at him to breathe. He couldn't hear anything other than the deafening cry of his mind's voice yelling repeatedly, _Breathe, Kurosaki! Breathe, dammit, breathe! _He couldn't see anything other than black, he couldn't smell anything other than blood. He couldn't feel anything other than the searing pain, and he couldn't taste anything at all.

Everything was slipping away, falling out from underneath him. The one little fiber of hope had slipped from his fingers, leaving him floating in a black abyss. He coughed, his body involuntarily jerking forward. His breathing was beginning to restore itself, but the panic and adrenaline were still there, his body still writhing and twitching. His breathing was uneven and hoarse, the buildup in his throat rasping his breath. A small pair of cool hands gently pulled his fingers from the edge of his loosened bandages. A damp, ice-cold cloth was placed on his forehead, absorbing the perspiration that covered his face.

Ichigo brought his hand up to his mouth and coughed viciously, violently, into his hand, the noise ripping through the quiet night like a gunshot. He pulled back his hand and studied it with watery eyes, grimacing at the small red specks that dotted his tan skin. "Sh-shit…" His voice was unbelievably gravelly and breathy. The shaking had begun to set in; small tremors and twitches jerking his body around in place. A wave of heat would make him begin to sweat before chills sent shivers down his spine; it would feel like ninety-eight degrees one minute, and fifty the next.

He shifted around on the mat, new surges of pain shooting through his body. It was far past the point of being unbearable; now, it made him want to stab himself through the head with his sword. What kept him from doing so was the severe lack of strength he possessed at the moment. It took all he had left to just raise his hand or talk, which he wasn't able to do much of, anyways. A shuddery sigh drifted from his lips, another tremor shaking his mangled body.

Ichigo felt a cool liquid trickle onto his lips; water. He opened his mouth slightly to allow more to pour into his mouth. If he had the strength, he would have grabbed the canteen from Rukia and chugged all of its contents. The cold water felt unbelievably good, running down his dry throat and cooling his flaming hot body. "Christ," Ichigo muttered, turning his head to the side, "How the hell did I get this sick?"

Rukia remained silent for a brief moment, wiping the sweat that had accumulated on Ichigo's face. "Normally, your immune system weakens when your wounded severely. I'm surprised your conditions aren't worse, considering how bad your wounds are."

"Immu-what?" Ichigo asked quietly, eyes squinting in confusion.

"Immune system." Rukia corrected, gently lifting the edges of Ichigo's bandages to check for any signs of bleeding. "Not too many people know all that much about it. It's supposed to protect your body from whatever causes you to be sick, and is weakened when the body is wounded seriously. With the wounds you have, a fever and coughing is only the minimum of what you should have."

"You're making it sound like this isn't bad." Ichigo stated, cocking an eyebrow.

"It's not, considering how bad it should be. If you had all the symptoms you should be having, your body would slowly be shutting down by now." Rukia adjusted the bandages on Ichigo's chest, positioning them so they were completely covering his wounds.

Ichigo cracked his eyes open, studying the petite girl's movements. "How do you know so much about this stuff? I mean, my dad was a doctor and I don't know half as much about medicine as you do."

The question seemed to startle Rukia, but she simply smiled before replying, "During the sieges of Edo, almost all the wounded soldiers were sent to the palace for medical care. My mother and I helped take care of the soldiers after the doctors had treated their wounds. I never really learned how to sew wounds until just recently; I never would have tried to close your wounds if I didn't know how. I saw a doctor do that once, and the patient died two hours later because the doctor sewed into his lungs."

"Well, that's…pleasant." Ichigo grimaced at the thought of a blunt needle and thick string being weaved through the surface of his lungs. They already felt like they were on fire, and just thinking about someone sewing right into them just made the burning sensation all the more unbearable. An idea struck him, and made him speak up, "Tell me about your family."

The demand must have been unexpected, because Rukia looked at Ichigo quizzically, as if she were trying to find some hidden meaning behind the request. The orange-haired man only looked up at her, almost innocently, and nodded for her to begin. "Where should I start?"

"Anywhere you feel like starting. You seem to like talking about your parents; tell me about them." Ichigo took her hand and entwined their fingers together, keeping her body next to his.

The gesture of holding her hand surprised Rukia, but comforted her and gave her a feeling of safety. "Well, my father was once the head of the Tokugawa Imperial Army and was in charge of Edo. He built many schools and hospitals and offered many jobs to people in need of money. He was very busy, and had to go out of the city often, but never seemed to be too busy to spend time with me and my brother. He used to let me sit on his shoulders and carry me around the gardens outside the palace. My brother was never really one for that, so he and my father would always play go or shogi together."

Ichigo nodded, a small smile on his face. "Your father," He coughed lightly, his eyes instinctively shutting, "He sounds like a good man. Commanded the entire army and still managed to find time to spend with his family."

"I can only remember a few years of him, though. Eleven years ago, in 1600, he left for Sekigahara with the rest of the army to fight the remaining enemy troops. He said that if they won this battle, it would unify Japan under the rule of the Tokugawa shoguns. He said that, as soon as the battle was over, he would give his command to another leader and return home."

"Yeah, I remember Sekigahara," Ichigo nodded, shifting on the mat. "I was nine. Tell ya what, it was pure insanity. My dad and I were down there to get medicine; it was the first time I had ever gone with him on one of his trips, so I was pretty excited. We ended up staying down there for a month afterwards taking care of the wounded." He coughed again, then nodded for Rukia to continue.

"He…he was wounded during the first assault. The rule was that if your commander was wounded during battle, the rest of his men had to stay and fight to the death. He told them that if things got out of hand, to leave his body on the field and fall back. They took him to the main line where he died of blood loss."

"Sorry." Ichigo whispered, feeling slightly ashamed of bringing up a painful topic.

"No, it's alright. He was the kind of man who would have much rather gone out fighting than anything else. A lot like you, now that I think about it."

"You flatter me." Ichigo grinned, a glint of happiness shining in his amber eyes. "And your mother?" He asked, groggily rubbing his eyes.

"My mother…" Rukia's voice trailed off, her violet eyes gazing down at her lap. "My mother was a nurse who worked at the palace before she married my father. My father's older brother, who acted more like his father than anything else, absolutely forbade him from marrying my mother, because, by tradition, he was supposed to marry a noble."

"Sounds familiar." Ichigo smirked at the uncanny resemblance between Rukia's father and mother and between her and Ichigo.

"But my father had a mind of his own, and if he had a mind to do something, he wound do it. He married my mother during the spring, in April. His brother gave him all kinds of grief about what he had done, but my father never listened. He allowed my mother to continue working as a nurse, because she loved helping people who needed it. But after my father died in battle, she became very sick and couldn't leave her bed. She died about a month afterwards. My sister took it the hardest."

"You have a sister?" Ichigo asked, slightly surprised.

"Yes. She's how I'm related to Byakuya. She married him, but after she died, he adopted me as his sister."

"Oh, so it's an in-law type thing, eh?" Ichigo questioned.

"Yes." Rukia remained silent for a brief moment before quietly speaking, "Ichigo?"

"Hmm?" Ichigo looked back up at the petite girl with droopy eyes, signaling that he was close to falling asleep.

"I…I want to talk to you about my brother. The only things you've heard about him have been extremely negative. He's…he's not really a bad person, not at all, but he…he's just very authoritative. Byakuya's really a very nice person once you get to know him. He acts tough and cold on the outside, but he's really soft on the inside." Rukia stopped and smirked playfully before adding, "A whole lot like you."

Ichigo cocked an eyebrow, looking at the petite girl with an amused look on his face. A flicker of playfulness shot across his eyes, a soft grin spreading across his face. "Me? Soft? No way, you can't be serious. There's no way I'm soft."

"Ichigo, let's face it; you try and act like a big, ferocious wolf on the outside, but on the inside you're just a little fluffy puppy dog." Rukia boldly stated, as if she were challenging the wounded man.

"A 'fluffy puppy dog', you say?" Ichigo stared at the girl in complete disbelief while stating in a cocky tone, "A puppy couldn't take out five robbers and still be alive."

"A big puppy could." Rukia grinned slyly.

His grin still prevalent, Ichigo pulled on Rukia's hand, tilting her body down so that her face was only centimeters from his. His warm breath brushed across her face, gently blowing the stray strands of hair that had fallen out of place around. The mischievous grin was still on his face, signifying his playful mood. He unclasped his bandaged hand from Rukia's and cupped her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "Believe me," His lips brushed against hers, barely touching, "There's nothing little or fluffy about me."

"Alright, fine; no puppy." Rukia gave in, laying down on the mat next to Ichigo.

"Good." Ichigo smiled triumphantly, pulling the thin blanket over his and Rukia's bodies. The cool night air blew in through the opening of the tent flap, causing the petite girl to shiver and scoot back against the orange-haired man, seeking the familiar warmth his body offered. He noted the girl's obvious discomfort and wrapped both of his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his bandaged chest, trying to warm her small body. Almost as soon as he did, he mentally slapped himself, realizing how uncomfortable Rukia must have felt with him practically smothering her. Instead, she responded by turning in Ichigo's embrace and snuggling closer to his chest, tucking her head under his chin.

Ichigo smiled kindly and buried his nose into Rukia's hair, sighing deeply. The feeling of her breath floating onto his bare chest, her body pressed against his, her breathing matching his, felt so unbearably _good_. Rukia pulled back slightly and looked up into Ichigo's eyes, their gazes locked on each other's faces. They remained silent for a few moments, trying to find the right words to express their feelings. Ichigo simply bent down and kissed her forehead softly, gently caressing her face with his bandaged hand.

Rukia gently nuzzled his neck, inhaling his heady scent. She could hear the strong, constant beating of Ichigo's heart coming from his chest. That sound was truly the only one that made her feel safe, that reassured her that he was alive, that confirmed that he was still there with her. Closing her eyes, Rukia snuggled deeper into Ichigo's embrace and was lulled to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat.

* * *

Alright, I had to look up quite a bit of stuff for this chapter. So I guess I'll start in order from beginning to end:

1) Why was Ichigo going nuts at the beginning of the chapter?- Well, I don't know the medical term for it, but severe wounds and fever, coughing blood, ect. can induce trauma and hallucinations. Like when he was trying to take the bandages off, his sane mind knew that the bandages weren't causing the pain, but since his mind was being affected by trauma, he couldn't think straight enough to make that conclusion. (This info is from my mom's medical textbooks from when she went to medical school in the 70's/80's, so it's a little dated.)

2) Did they even know anything about immune systems back then?- Yes, but very little. The earliest report of immunity to illnesses was recorded back in 430 B.C. during the plague of Athens. The Greek historian Thucydides noticed that when people recovered from certain illnesses, they could nurse the sick with the same illness without contracting it a second time. But in the 1600's, they had no clue as to what caused a person to contract an illness.

3) Ichigo's sick as a dog, so why is Rukia sleeping next to him?- Well, back in the early 1600's, it wasn't a widely known fact that if you hung around a person who was sick, you could contract the illness. The main reason that people who knew nothing about how to catch an illness stayed away from those who were sick was that the idea of being around someone who coughed and sneezed all over themselves was kind of gross.

Any more questions, I'll try to answer them the best I can .


	9. Arrival In Edo

Edo was, by far, the biggest city Ichigo had ever seen. It was a massive labyrinth of buildings, people cramming the streets and alleyways. Carts of fresh foods, small handmade items, and clothing lined the streets and squeezed in between the monstrous buildings. Vendors called out to passing pedestrians, and wagon drivers shouted at the numerous crowds on the dirt street to move out of their way. Solders stood on street corners, smoking their kiseru pipes and drinking from bottles of sake.

Ichigo stopped at the corner of an intersection, looking down all of the streets. He scratched the back of his head, his confusion evident. He and Rukia were in the largest city in Japan with no map and no way of knowing which way to go. Perfect. Just as he was about to punch a hole into the wooden wall he was leaning against, Rukia, tugged on his sleeve and pointed down the street to their left. "We just go down that road, take a right after that, and follow it until we reach the palace."

Ichigo looked down at her, obvious shock written on his face. "Wh…how the hell do you know all that?"

"Come on, Ichigo." Rukia looked at Ichigo with a superior gaze, crossing her arms over her chest, clearly satisfied with herself. "I know this city like the back of my hand. Do you honestly think I would forget how to reach the palace that quickly?"

Ichigo didn't really know how to answer that. He could tell the truth and say no, but that would only earn him a swift kick to the balls. On the other hand, he could lie and say "Of course not," but unless it was a serious situation, he had never made a convincing liar. The orange-haired man acted swiftly and made a "Plan C", which consisted of remaining silent and beginning to lead the way down the street. Realizing that no negative repercussions of his actions (or lack thereof) were coming, he let out a mental sigh of relief.

Around two months ago, Ichigo and Rukia had been leaving Osaka for the destination they were only about a mile away from reaching. If the circumstances had been the same as they were that two months ago, the end of their time together would be marked by the Kuchiki Palace. If the circumstances had been the same on the trip, they probably would have tried to kill each other numerous times. Had the circumstances been the same, they would not have fallen in love. But because of the funny little thing called "fate", they had several other obstacles to pass before their journey was over. The biggest ones going by the names of Kuchiki Byakuya and Sosuke Aizen.

"Your brother," Ichigo started, looking down at the pommel of his sword. "You said that your sister marrying him was the only reason you two were related. How is it that you all were living together before that?"

The break of silence seemed to loosen the apprehension they both had about what awaited them when they reached the castle. "The Kuchiki's were the original owners of the palace, hence the name. My father and the head of the Kuchiki family were close friends and worked closely together, since they were both high-ranking officers in the army. They both decided to expand the original palace so that their families could live together. Nii-sama was an only child, and his father died a month after he was born, so he was like a son to my father."

"I see." Ichigo nodded, putting his hands into his pockets. "And your brother, is he the same now as he was when he was a kid?"

"Almost exactly the same." Rukia chuckled lightheartedly before continuing, "Although, I never saw too much of him. I didn't like being around him all that much, so I did my best to avoid him. He was always very intimidating and looked down on me, and he rarely ever smiled."

"Sounds like a real family man." Ichigo scoffed half-heartedly, looking around the massive city. He could see the monstrous palace at the end of the road, about a quarter of a mile from where they were. The nervousness that had been suppressed by their conversation was beginning to rise once again, full realization that convincing Byakuya to call off the arranged marriage was close to impossible. The threat of being imprisoned, or at the very worst, executed, for interfering with the marriage was now very real. But the fear that had settled inside of Ichigo's stomach was not of being killed, but of loosing Rukia. There was, almost literally, a ninety-nine percent chance that he would probably never see her again.

Ichigo could see guards talking in front of the large wooden gates, none of them looking all too friendly. There was something oddly familiar about the guards, something that made the orange-haired man stop dead in his tracks. The men guarding the entrance were the same men that had guarded his cell when he had escaped from prison. They hadn't seemed to have noticed him and Rukia, obviously too "busy" to pay them any mind. He pulled the petite girl into the edge of the alleyway, looking around the corner of the building behind him to make sure the guards hadn't seen them.

"Ichigo, what is it? What's wrong?" Rukia asked, straining to look around Ichigo at whatever was causing the sudden urgency to hide.

"Those guards back there," Ichigo turned around to face the girl and nodded his head towards the men guarding the palace. "Those are the same bastards who guarded my cell when Aizen threw me in prison. How often to guards switch their shifts?"

"Um, every day. Their shift should be over when the sun rises, if nii-sama has left things the same." Rukia looked at the palace guards, then back at Ichigo.

"I'll come tomorrow, then. About noon tomorrow, I'll come." Ichigo looked back over his shoulder again.

"Why not now? Nii-sama will have a heart attack if we spring this on him tomorrow." Rukia looked around him again, but was pulled deeper into the alleyway when one of the guards glanced in their direction.

"Those guards will recognize me for sure. If I go up there now, they're going to hold me until someone, probably Aizen, can confirm that I'm the one that escaped." Ichigo looked back and sighed with relief when none of the guards decided to inspect the alleyway. "I'll stop by your room tonight. I should still be alive by then, so you shouldn't have to worry about me not showing up." He pulled his mother's pendant off of his neck and put it in Rukia's hand, closing it with his own. "Here. I'll have to come back and get it eventually. Now you know that I really will come. Alright?"

Rukia nodded, standing on the tips of her toes, and leaned up to kiss Ichigo on the lips. She felt him wrap his arm around her waist, firmly holding her against his lean body. He cupped her face with his hand, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. Ichigo smiled warmly, leaning his forehead against hers, and kissed the tip of her nose. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Rukia hugged him briefly before exiting the alleyway, careful to make sure that none of the guards were looking, and clutched the pendant in her hand.

-------------------------------------------------------

A sharp, loud knocking from Rukia's door made her jump back from the small table she was seated at. She had been so lost in thought that the noise had taken her by complete surprise. She put down her ink brush and stood, legs slightly sore from the position she had been sitting in, and walked over to the door. She slid the door open just enough so that she could see who it was, and was greeted by the familiar tattooed face of her childhood friend. "Oh, Renji. Come in."

"Thanks." Renji nodded at her, his trademark mischievous grin plastered on his tattooed face. He watched carefully as Rukia walked back over to the mat in front of the small table and sat down, motioning to the mat on the opposite side of the table.

"Would you like to sit down?"

"Sure, sure." Renji walked over to the mat, the wooden floorboards creaking underneath his weight, and sat down with an audible grunt. Studying the petite girl for a few moments longer, he finally sighed and tried to strike up a conversation. "How was the trip?"

"The trip was…fine." Rukia was doing her best to avoid eye contact with the man, constantly looking down at the piece of paper she was practicing her kanji on. "Ichigo says hello."

"Yeah, about him," Renji ran a hand over his face, his hesitation extremely evident. "Nothing…oh, I don't know, _happened _between you two on the way here, did there?"

Rukia felt the color leave her face as soon as the question left the man's mouth. He was on to her, and if Ichigo was coming tomorrow to talk to her brother, there was no way she could lie to Renji without him eventually finding out. "Uh, me and…Ichigo? Well, uh…"

Renji let his head hit the table with a loud 'bang', an exasperated groan escaping his lips. "Rukia, Rukia, Rukia. Please, _please _tell me that you aren't serious! Do you realize what kind of deep shit you two are in? You can't just fall in love with him! Have you forgotten that you're going to get married _at the end of the month_?! If he even thinks about trying to stop your marriage from taking place, you brother is going to hack off his head and hang it on the dining hall entryway. Literally!" Renji yelled, a vein protruding from the side of his head. "And if not that, he'll be getting a room without a view. For _life_."

The sheer truth of the statement crashed down on Rukia like the roof above her head. Up until that awkward moment with the only person other than Ichigo she truly felt comfortable around, she hadn't ever taken the fact that her brother would make the one she loved suffer for his interference seriously. But the problem that had been plaguing her thoughts was that if by some miracle Byakuya didn't kill Ichigo, what would they do? The chance that the wedding would be called off was next to nothing, and the only other option seemed to be was for them to run away and elope.

Renji ran a large hand over his face, shutting his dark eyes and sighing deeply. "You two have dug yourselves holes that you are not going to be able to climb out of. This goes beyond blind stupidity, Rukia. This is sheer _insanity_. How could you even think your brother would accept Kurosaki? If he's not a noble, he's outta the game. Any way you take this, you're still going to be married to Aizen."

"But I don't love Aizen!" The sudden outburst took Renji by surprise, causing him to jump back slightly. "With you and my brother it's been nothing but rules and tradition and not breaking outside of the walls of nobility. No one's asked me how _I _felt about being married to a man I don't know. And do you want to know what I learned about Aizen that you and nii-sama have probably kept hidden from me?"

"Rukia," Renji warned dangerously, his voice low and menacing.

"Aizen killed Ichigo's entire family. And he nearly killed Ichigo when he called him on it. He threw him in jail for no reason at all! He has a huge scar on his back that never completely healed, because he was put in a prison cell without any medical treatment at all. What kind of man does that to someone else?"

"Do you hear the words commin' out of your mouth, Rukia?" Renji yelled, cocking a tattooed eyebrow. "Kurosaki's got your head filled with so much bullshit that you can't even think straight! You're like frickin' putty in his hand! Dammit, I thought I could trust him to do this without screwing it up beyond any help at all-"

"_Bullshit_?" Rukia asked incredulously, narrowing her violet eyes dangerously. "Why would Ichigo lie to me about Aizen killing his family? Give me one good reason, Renji."

Renji sighed, shaking his head. "Look, I'll save your brother the trouble, and tell you now. Stay away from Kurosaki Ichigo. This…this _thing _between you two, it's only gonna lead to trouble and some heads rolling. And if you see him anytime soon," Renji warned menacingly, half way out the door, "Tell him that if he even _thinks _about coming within eyeshot of you or this palace, I'll take care of him personally."

Rukia winced as the door shut behind the tattooed man with a loud 'bang'. What Renji had said was not to be taken lightly; he hadmade threats much similar to that before, and almost always carried them out. The 'carrying out' normally resulted in someone limping home with a broken nose or an unhinged jaw, and on only one or two occasions it had been Renji with said injuries. Now, the reoccurring question was then the most vital to answer: How exactly _was _all this going to work out? The entire plan of asking Byakuya to cancel the wedding had gone up in fiery smoke, and she and Ichigo only had about three weeks to come up with a new one.

And if Ichigo was even spoken of anytime before or after the wedding, Renji was going to do everything in his power to make sure that there was no Ichigo to talk about.

---------------------------------------------------

The moonlight poured through the window into Rukia's bedroom, illuminating the small space with pale light. Ichigo hadn't shown up yet, and Rukia was praying that Renji had not found him and decided to stick to his promise of taking "care" of him. Her room was on the third level of a six level building, and she had to wonder just how Ichigo would manage to get up there. She hoped that he wouldn't try and sneak in with some thirty guards patrolling the palace, but throw a rock at her window to attract her attention, or something more sensible than what she excepted him to do.

Rukia sat down on her futon, still contemplating her and Ichigo's futile situation. There was no way that she knew of that would allow the arranged marriage to be called off without someone's blood being shed. And with the way things were looking, it seemed as if Ichigo's blood was going to paint the inside of the palace before the month was over. She laid down on the futon, putting her head on the mound under the covers that she assumed were pillows; but pillows don't breathe, and they don't feel like human torsos. A familiar voice spoke from under the covers, obviously amused, "Don't you know that it's impolite to lay down on top of your guests."

Partially surprised and partially somewhat angry at Ichigo for sneaking into her futon, which she could tell was one of his jokes, Rukia kicked the massive lump without mercy, sending it at least two feet away from its original position. Ichigo groaned and coughed, curling up into a ball to protect himself from any further attacks. He pulled the covers off of his head and rubbed his abdomen, groaning a little more loudly for dramatic effect. "God, is that any way to treat someone who had to sneak past thirteen guards and two dogs just to get in here?"

"How _did_ you get in here, anyways?" Rukia asked.

"I climbed." Ichigo winced as he brushed his fingers across his throbbing abdomen.

"I would have gone and told you sooner, if it hadn't been for Renji constantly watching my every move," Rukia pulled Ichigo up by his arm, careful not to hurt him any more than she unintentionally had.

"Tell me what?" Ichigo kept his hand over his bruised abdomen, on the guard for any surprise attacks, even though he was quite certain that the threat of Rukia's surprise had passed.

"Renji," Rukia took a deep breath, trying to foretell Ichigo's reaction, "Renji knows. He practically knows everything, and he said that if he saw you anywhere near the palace, he'd 'take care of you'."

"And this is a bad thing?" Ichigo asked, the threat of the tattooed man coming after him with a sword obviously having no effect on him whatsoever.

"Yes, it's a bad thing. He was as mad as hell when he talked to me about it. If he even hears your name he goes completely nuts."

"Hmmm," Ichigo sat down next to Rukia on the futon, deep in thought. "Seems we've hit a dead end." Dead end indeed. They had traveled together for three hundred miles, fought off robbers, healed each other's physical and mental wounds, only to hit the brick wall that was the arranged wedding. He put an arm around her waist, holding her small body close to his lean one. He sighed deeply; he had no ideas, no notion of how to solve the problem that had been thrust upon them, and it was beginning to eat away at his patience. "Any ideas?"

Rukia leaned against Ichigo, shaking her head into his shoulder. The situation was as hopeless as ever, and what Renji had said earlier was beginning to take shape. They had dug a hole that neither her or Ichigo could climb out of, and the hole was only getting deeper with each moment they spent together. "We'll figure something out." Ichigo reassured her calmly, as if all of it were at his control, before quietly vowing, his lips pressed against her forehead, "I promise." He stood, walking to the window and gazing across the area beneath the opening, checking for any signs of guards or servants who happened to be roaming about the grassy expanse up to the gate.

"I need to go." Ichigo turned, his foot on the sill of the window, his hand firmly grasping the opening's wooden frame. He looked down at the ground, some thirty feet below him and cocked an eyebrow. "It looks taller from up here…" He let his voice trail off before turning to the petite girl once again, a kind, sincere smile in his handsome face, "Same time tomorrow?"

"It's a date." Rukia leaned up to kiss him, holding onto the cloth of his black shirt for support. His free arm encircled her small waist, holding her tightly against his muscular figure before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. He smirked against her lips, pulling back only far enough so they could breathe. He gently brushed back the stray strands of hair that had fallen into her face with the backs of his fingers, taking in her euphoric scent.

"It's a date." Ichigo whispered quietly, disappearing through the window into the dark night.

--------------------------------------------------------

Ichigo looked at the palace from his position of leaning against the side of a small shop. He really had no money, so renting out a room for the night was out of the question. Not that it was a problem, anyways; he wouldn't have been able to get to sleep even if he wanted to. There was too much running through his mind for him even think about getting any rest. His gaze shot to the alleyway behind him when heard shuffling and footsteps approaching him. He turned around, gripping the handle of his sword, and shouted, "What the hell are you-"

Something hard hit his head, and his entire world went black.


	10. Hope Is Not A Saviour

Yay! I'm in Toledo!

Alright, a quick warning I need to give out before starting: I put some Ichigo torture in this chapter, so squeamish (and crazy fan girls) be warned!

Hope you all like this chapter though; I watched a show on the History Channel on torture methods. I nearly upchucked twice, but my obsesssion with the historical accuracy of this fic kept my breakfast and lunch inside of my stomach.

Oh, and I get to go to the roller coaster capital of the world and barf my guts up as many times as I feel fit for a Friday. If any of you have been to Cedar Point, you know what i mean :D

And, yes, I changed my name (formerly BLEACHIDIOT22487) But I like this one better.

* * *

The throbbing pain in the back of his head was the first thing he noticed. It only grew stronger and sharper as he returned to consciousness, blurring his already imperfect vision as his slowly opened his amber eyes. He groggily shook his head, trying in vain to clear the dense, impenetrable fog within his mind. As feeling began to be restored to his body, he realized that he was standing on his feet; how he managed to wake up standing, he had no idea. 

Ichigo moved his hand to rub his eyes, but growled when it refused to move. "Wha-?" He looked up at his hand, and cocked an eyebrow angrily when he saw a thick rope wrapped around both of his wrists binding his hands above his head to a large wooden beam on the ceiling. His feet could barely touch the ground, growling when his feet, having been removed of their shoes and socks, skimmed across the cold stone floor. Torches dimly lit the dank stone room, sending small waves of heat through the room before being diminished by gusts of chilled air.

The trapped man snarled agitatedly, struggling against the thick bindings. He harshly pulled on the ropes, hissing in pain as his wrists grinded against the coarse material. Several curses escaped his lips as he realized what room he was in. He had been there before, in a different city, but in a room with the same architectural style. The dank, dark, cold stone walls and floor, the stench of rotting flesh mingling with the scent of fresh blood.

It was a room for torture and interrogation.

"Dammit! Frickin' damn ropes!" Ichigo cursed profusely, sweat beginning to run down his brow, neck, and bare chest. He pulled his body up, using the ropes fastened to his wrists, and let himself drop, pulling roughly on the bindings. Searing pain stretched across his back, and blood began to trickle from the freshly opened wound. A shuddery sigh escaped his lips, hanging his head in terrifying realization that he wouldn't be able to break out the bindings as easily as he had before.

The question that immediately entered Ichigo's mind was, who could have done it? He hadn't expected Renji to sink so low as to knock him out and drag him into a torture chamber, but the man's threat against his life made him a definite suspect. Any of the guards could have done it, but why they would have chosen to do it secretly by ambushing him in the middle of the night was beyond him. Ichigo knew by personal experience that, whenever guards arrested someone, it was almost always done in a pair or group instead of one person.

He could feel the warm blood flowing down the length of his back, soaking into the waist of his pants. Small spasms of pain shot throughout Ichigo's body, all originating from the damned scar Aizen had given him. His amber eyes narrowed as several pairs of heavy footsteps made their way towards the small room, and he began yanking on the rope once again. His futile flailing got him virtually nowhere, another string of curses ripping from his mouth. "Dammit! Son of a-"

"Now, now, Kurosaki-kun." A pleased voice floated into the said person's ears, pushing him to the verge of puking. "No need for such foul language." Three figures walked through the doorway, the sight of the first one to enter the small room nearly sending Ichigo into a swearing fit. The man who had been first to enter stared at the captive man with a rather satisfied smirk, the sinister glint in his eyes betraying his calm façade. "Have you enjoyed your stay so far, Kurosaki-kun?"

"Aizen," Ichigo snarled menacingly, his lips curling into a threatening grimace. Rage and murderous intent for the man who had stolen everything from him burned within his amber eyes, the hate and venom radiating off of his struggling body. Malice dripped from the words as he spat out, "Go to hell, you bastard!" With a surprising burst of strength, the prisoner lifted his feet and attempted to kick the brown-haired man, only missing him by a mere few millimeters.

Aizen watched as the captive settled, still glaring dangerously with fiery amber eyes, and shook his head disapprovingly at Ichigo. "My, my," He attempted to approach the prisoner, but stopped and smiled when he jerked towards him threateningly. "I see your manners haven't improved much since we last spoke with each other, Kurosaki-kun."

"Quit with all that _kun _bull crap." Ichigo barked loudly, his voice echoing off the dank walls of what he assumed was going to be turned into his own living hell. He breathed heavily, watching as the two tense guards standing behind Aizen watched him like a wolf stalking a fawn, ready to make a move if the captive attempted to attack their leader. "The hell's your game, Aizen?" A hoarse cough ripped from his throat, momentarily halting his questioning. "You've already taken everything from me. Whada ya want now?"

Aizen pretended to look surprised, but only allowed his smile to become more false as he clasped his hands behind his back. "Are you not talking about young Rukia because you hoped that I didn't know and wouldn't bring it up?" Satisfaction shone in his eyes as a play of emotions crossed Ichigo's face before he settled on a deadly glare. "You think your relationship with Rukia has been kept a secret? I saw you prowling around the palace like a housecat, looking for her room."

"Yeah, _and_?" Ichigo gave a triumphant grin, scoffing lightly at the brown-haired man. "I've busted out of prison, also. Why don't you add that to the list of things I'm goin' to hell for?"

"Hmm," Aizen studied the captive with prying eyes. "And you seem proud of this."

"Yeah, why not?" Ichigo's grin widened, his teeth showing in a cocky smile. "'Cause when I kill your ass and send you there, I'll get to visit you once I die and make you regret the day you screwed with me and my family for the rest of eternity."

"That's enough, ingrate trash!" One of the guards smacked the prisoner in the face with the sheath of his katana, the metal cutting through the skin on his temple and leaving a small smear of blood trailing to his hairline.

Aizen sighed disapprovingly, shaking his head sadly with closed eyes. "I think you fail to realize the seriousness of your crimes, Kurosaki-kun." The man began to circle the captive, pacing around him like a wild dog waiting for a piece of fresh meat to be dropped into its cage. Which was exactly what Ichigo felt like; a piece of meat dangling in a butcher's shop window. "The crimes you've committed today alone are enough to sentence you to well over fifteen years in a prison. Trespassing, violating a young girl only two weeks before her wedding; do you know what the punishment for those crimes are, Kurosaki-kun?"

Ichigo didn't respond to the question, but felt his heart sink into his stomach when he heard the answer from his enemy. "Torture until the victim either passes out or dies; whichever one comes first." Aizen added with an almost happy note. He nodded towards one of the guards, who was holding a black whip with a small piece of jagged metal attached to the end. A crooked smile formed on the guard's face as he slowly stalked behind the prisoner, his footsteps slowly echoing throughout the small room.

Ichigo clenched his eyes shut, his muscles tensing in nervous anticipation of the staggering blows that were sure to be delivered to his back. He could already feel the small piece of metal digging into the tender flesh surrounding his scar, tearing the skin off of his body. He bit down on his lip to the point of drawing blood when he heard the guard grunt as he pulled the whip back.

He lost all feeling in his body for a brief moment as the jagged metal dug into his skin, tearing into the muscles and nerves, warm, thick blood running down his body. Ichigo bit back a curse as the whip tore through his flesh again, and again, and again. White-hot bolts of pain shot through his body and mind, everything except Aizen's triumphant sneer becoming a white blur. It seemed to last forever; Ichigo had never realized how time became twisted when excruciating pain was being inflicted upon him. After what seemed like hours, but what had really only been minutes, the beating ceased.

Aizen, still smiling as if he had done Ichigo some huge favor by mercilessly whipping him, tapped his chin thoughtfully, studying the prisoner's defiant but pained expression. "You, know, Kurosaki-kun," The brown-haired man slowly walked over to a small pit of flaming coals. He extracted a long, sharp piece of metal that closely resembled a pike and studied its white tip, his eyes traveling down the small sections of burning-hot yellow, orange, scarlet, and the cool black of the metal. "I've heard stories about a method of torture commonly used in the western world."

Ichigo felt panic begin to rise from within his stomach and work its way to his throat. He listened as his aggressor spoke calmly, almost happily, while walking towards his stationary figure. "A little birdie told me that they stick pieces of metal into coals and burn their victims with it. I've never found anyone to try it on, so I thought that since you were here and available, maybe we could give it a go on you."

Ichigo swallowed deeply, fear and nervous apprehension building up within him as the burning piece of metal came closer and closer to making contact with the bare skin of his chest. The white-hot tip was only an inch or so away from his shoulder, the heat radiating off the pike and tensing his muscles. He refused to shut his eyes, to give Aizen the satisfaction of knowing that he was fearing what was about to happen. "Do it already, dammit!"

The burning metal cut into Ichigo's shoulder as soon as the venomous command left his mouth. No words could describe the incredible pain he felt as the red metal slowly sliced through his flesh, leaving a long wound with bloody pieces of charred flesh hanging from the gash. The stench of burning flesh and blood quickly filled the room, both that and the pain raising bile into his throat. The captive clenched his teeth together, a painful, prolonged groan coming from his throat.

Without any control over it at all, Ichigo gagged, his head jerking forwards, and vomited on the cold stone floor. His breathing had become ragged and hoarse, a rough cough ripping from his mouth. The tremors that the cough caused his wounds to burn in intense, immeasurable pain. Blood from the numerous gashes in his back and chest ran in thin streams down his body and onto the floor, mixing with the vomit at his feet.

"My, my," Aizen look surprised at the puddle of upchuck that had barely missed him. "I didn't think it would hurt that bad, Kurosaki-kun." He smiled as Ichigo's lifeless, empty eyes stared at him, his body holding no energy even to make a glare. "Of course," The brown-haired man studied the bloodied tip of the pike, which had dulled down to a scarlet color. "I don't recall westerners ever stabbing their prisoners with flaming metal; they would just drag it along their skin. But I see this method is much more effective."

Ichigo saw his vision facing to black, then lighting up again. He coughed again, not as violently as he had before, and looked up at Aizen. Mustering all of the strength his body had left, he venomously spat out the only words he could think of, "Go…to…hell."

Aizen leaned down in front of Ichigo's face and spoke with a satisfied voice, "How do you think little Rukia will react when she finds out that your dead?"

"I'm n-not…dead." Ichigo felt blood begin to trickle from his mouth and drip off of his chin.

"Not yet. But I've learned that with all the wounds you've received, plus the ones you have right now, they will probably become infected before the end of the month. And you'll just be left to rot like the dog you are in some filthy prison cell until your dead."

Ichigo growled, blood flowing from his parted lips, and spat a ball of bloody saliva onto his aggressor's face.

Aizen simple smiled and shook his head, looking at the blood-covered pike. "And my answer to that is," Without any warning, he drove the piece of metal into Ichigo's stomach, the tip faintly poking out of his back. He watched in amusement as the prisoner writhed and cringed in pain, an agonized howl ripping from his mouth as Aizen slowly turned the pike inside of Ichigo's stomach. Deciding he was through, he roughly pulled the metal from the orange-haired man's stomach and nodded to the guards. "Take him down and put him in a cell."

Ichigo's vision cut to black as he realized that no amount of hope could save him as it had before.


	11. The Loss Of Life

_**December 5, 1611**_

_**9:00 PM**_

Rukia looked out the window of her room, relishing the beauty of the brilliant colors being cast by the setting sun. The lights of the lanterns illuminating the streets of Edo twinkled like stars on the grounds around the palace, casting shadows of the pedestrians who were returning to their homes after their day's work had been finished. It was only around three hours until the time that Ichigo had promised he would come back to her room. She knew that she had to treasure the moments she was able to spend with him while she could, because one of them could very well be the last time she would ever see him.

She hated to think about it, but it was a cruel reality that gnawed at her every second of every day. It seemed strange that how most people would wish to be born into royalty, she wished she hadn't been. All Rukia wanted to be at that moment was a normal person, no one special, and with Ichigo. Saying Ichigo's name around Renji was surmount to taking the lord's name in vain, and at any mention of the orange-haired man, Renji would literally go up the wall.

Earlier, just for fun, Rukia had actually tried to hold a conversation with the tattooed man that centered around Ichigo, which resulted in the disgruntled individual nearly kicking a hole into the wall of her room. Renji, who must have caught onto the petite girl's joke, had sent the deadliest of death glares in her direction before exiting the room, muttering several swear words that he must have come up with on the spot.

But the fact that Renji had been so enraged by the very thought of her falling in love with Ichigo had made Rukia a little worried. She didn't want to think that he was jealous, and since there was no way that he would ever admit to being even the smallest bit jealous, she truly had no way of knowing for sure. The idea of the tattooed man being jealous made Rukia giggle, but she new that, jealous or not, Renji was going to make it a point to hunt Ichigo down.

A light knock from her door turned her attention from the window and to the opposite side of the room. "Come in."

Renji opened the door, looking down at the floor. His face had lost its mischievous, almost child-like look, and had been replaced by a much more serious and somber expression. His refusal to make eye contact with Rukia had already begun to slightly worry the girl, who had quickly noticed the man's strange behavior. She looked up at him, a small feeling of nervous apprehension settling in the pit of her stomach. "Renji, what is it?" She asked, dreading the answer.

The tattooed man looked up briefly, instantly regretting what he was about to do. He was already beginning to feel horrible for something he hadn't even done yet. But the words of Aizen rang clearly in his head, _"Tell her that he's dead. Make her believe that he's dead, and make sure that she suffers for ever even considering choosing him over me." _God, he knew how much it would hurt her; and what was even worse, he knew that it was a lie. He knew for a fact that Ichigo wasn't dead; just the closest thing to it. Aizen had informed him about what he had done to him. Out of what he realized had been sympathy, Renji had snuck Ichigo to a doctor's house a few miles outside of town. The doctor, who was a woman named Unohana Retsu, had solemnly informed the tattooed man that Ichigo was probably not going to last past the next day.

"Aizen," Renji knew that he couldn't tell Rukia that Ichigo was dead. He could already see her pained expression, and could feel her heart shatter into a million pieces that no form of love, kindness, or compassion could ever repair. "Aizen found Ichigo, and took him to the underground chamber beneath the solder's quarters, and-" He cut himself off, both because of the shocked expression on the petite girl's face and because of the vivid memory of Ichigo's mangled and bloodied body lying on the stone floor. "God, he was a mess. I…I swear I would have done something to warn him if I had known that Aizen was here."

"Wh-What happened to him?" Rukia knew very well what happened to him. The chamber that Renji had spoken of had been used as a torture and interrogation room during the sieges of the city, and occasionally used as a "punishment room" for convicted criminals, using the tunnel connected to the prison in the center of the town. She shuddered just thinking about the pain Ichigo must have had to endure, and without any kind of medical attention until Renji had taken him to the doctor.

"I-I really don't know," Renji rubbed his face, trying to force the gruesome memory into the back of his mind. "But God, whatever Aizen did to him must've been real sick and twisted. Kurosaki had gashes on his shoulder and back, and a horrible wound on his chest. I-I took him to a doctor a few miles outside of town, but he's not doing well."

"How bad is he?" Rukia asked, preparing for the worst, but silently praying for the best.

"I…I'm sorry, Rukia, but," Renji swallowed the lump in his throat before continuing, "Doctor Unohana said that he probably won't make it past tomorrow morning. The wounds…the wounds really screwed up his lungs and ribs, and from what Ichigo told me, the guards beat the hell out of him once they dumped him in his cell. Most of his ribs are broken, and his lungs have been penetrated in several places. Christ, he was laying in a puddle of vomit and blood when I found him." Renji hesitantly looked as the shocked and startled Rukia, who only looked back at him in complete disbelief. "I…I can take you to him, if you want."

"Y-yes…" Rukia was in complete shock; her mind was a whirlwind of terror and disbelief. She couldn't even begin to think about how horrible Ichigo must have looked. The image of his torn apart body, lying in a mix of body fluids and upchuck, staring at the wall of his cell with dead, empty eyes forced itself into her head as she followed Renji out of the back door of the palace and to a wagon, that she presumed would take them to Ichigo.

The trip was one of the longest Rukia had ever taken, the suspense of what she would have to face once she and Renji had reached their destination only made the trip slower, the minutes seeming like hours. They were both silent, knowing that no type of conversation would make the trip go any faster, or make anyone's dread die down. Rukia pulled the large black coat Renji had given her tighter over her shoulders, shuddering against the cold winter wind. "Thank you."

Rukia's voice was so quiet that Renji had initially thought he had been hearing things, which was probable, since he had not gotten any sleep since the night before. "What?"

"Th-Thank you." Rukia whispered again, looking down at her feet. "I know you don't care very much for Ichigo, but thank you for helping him.

Renji gave a small smile before turning his eyes back to the snow-covered road.

Truthfully, Rukia was extremely thankful for Renji's unexpected act of kindness. She would never had expected, at least not after the fit he had thrown, for him to go out of his way and save Ichigo. "Do you…do you really think that Ichigo will…" Rukia was unable to finish the sentence, the thought of the last word making her want to vomit.

Renji's eyes became distant again, concentration on the tiny dots of light that marked the small farmhouses that resided around Edo. "It…it's difficult to say." He sighed deeply, his breath forming in a visible mist before his face. "It would be hard to survive the beating he got. I…" He looked down at Rukia, sadness glistening within his crimson eyes, before finishing solemnly, "I'm sorry, but I wouldn't count on him surviving. Not for very long, anyways."

For the second time that day, Rukia's heart sunk even deeper into her gut, if it were even possible. The words, though spoken before, crashed down on her like a huge building. The worst she had ever seen Ichigo had been after he had protected her from the men that had attacked them, and even seeing him like that had been hard for her to swallow. She shuddered just thinking about how he must have felt, in so much pain and agony, and with no way to dull it. "I don't think I ever told him that I loved him."

"Hmm?" Renji looked down at her, her words having been lost in the wind before reaching his ear.

"He always told me that he loved me. All the time, he'd say it. But I…I don't think I ever said it back. Out of all those times Ichigo told me, I…I…" Rukia choked on her tears, leaning against Renji for support. "Please, you have to get me there soon. I…I need to tell him that I love him."

"The house is right up here. He'll be alive when we get there, I know it. He told me…" Renji looked back up at the house, trying to gauge whether or not he should tell Rukia, "He told me that he wouldn't die until he'd been able to say goodbye to you. And that he loves you. He made me promise to tell you that, in case he did die. But, no, he's still alive. He's waiting for you."

As Renji halted the wagon in front of the small house, Rukia jumped out of the seat and ran to wards the door, knocking on it frantically in terror-educed anticipation of what awaited her. Before the petite girl was able to knock again, a pale woman with her hair braded in front of her opened the door, looking slightly surprised by the late-night commotion. "Kuchiki-san. Abarai-san." She nodded politely at them as she addressed their names.

"Unohana-san." Renji nodded breathlessly, needing a moment to catch his breath after running to the house to keep Rukia from barreling right through the door as soon as the doctor had opened it. "Is he…?"

"Kurosaki-san? Yes, he is alive." Unohana grimly added, "But barely."

"Please, Unohana-san," Rukia pleaded, her voice showing how desperate she was to reach Ichigo in his dying moments. "Could I please see him?"

Unohana was about to say no, worrying about what kind of effect seeing Ichigo in the condition he was in would have on the petite girl. But she changed her mind when she saw Renji nod from behind Rukia, signaling that it would be alright. "Are you sure, Kuchiki-san?" She sighed as the petite girl nodded hurriedly, and stepped out of the doorway for them to enter. "He's in the back room. Please be quiet, though. Kurosaki-san is sleeping."

Rukia rushed past the doctor and stopped at the closed door leading to the back room. She pressed her palms against the wooden door, gently pushing it open. She peaked her head in, careful not to make the floorboards creak under her weight. She looked around the room until her gaze fell upon a motionless body laying on a wooden bloodstained table in the center of the room. Blood dripped off of the table and onto the ground, seeping through the floorboards.

Cautiously, Rukia approached the table, stepping around the puddles of blood that dotted the floor. She reached out and touched Ichigo's bloodied face, shocked by how cold it felt. Bandages loosely encompassed his torso, red liquid seeping trough in several areas. Holding back her tears, she leaned forward and softly kissed his forehead. She felt his brow shift beneath her lips as he opened his eyes, his voice low and scratchy. "R-Rukia? That you?"

Forcing a small smile, Rukia pulled back and began stroking Ichigo's hair, afraid that even the slightest touch would cause him some form of extreme pain. She saw him give a pained smile, wincing as he shifted around on the table. His amber eyes were dull and completely lifeless, glassed over in intense pain. He coughed violently, gripping the petite girl's hand as he body writhed on the table, agonizing spasms of pain shooting through his body. He laid back down, shutting his eyes before opening them again, and spoke softly, noticing the tears in Rukia's eyes, "Wh-" Another cough erupted from his mouth, cutting his sentence off. "What're ya crying for?"

"You're such an idiot, you know that?" Rukia watched as Ichigo smiled, blood beginning to bubble up in his throat and trickle from his slightly parted lips. The petite girl used her sleeve to wipe the blood from his face, gently cradling his bruised head. He looked up at her, his mouth forming words that were cut off by a pained groan. Rukia moved away, suspecting that her touching him was the reason he was in pain, but stopped when he grabbed hold of her sleeve, keeping her in place.

"N-No." He choked out, his eyes shut, "Stay with me. P-Please…I've got something to tell you."

Rukia stayed in place, continuing to run her fingers comfortingly through his hair. She bent down and kissed him again, letting her forehead gently press against his. "Ichigo, I…I'm sorry that I've never said that I love you."

"Y-You…you think I didn't know that? Th…That you love me?" Ichigo gave a small laugh, a grin betraying the intense waves of pain that shot through his body. "I knew by…by the way you looked at me…when I told you…that I loved you." His grin turned into a smile when he jokingly added, "And when you were watching me bathe in the lake the second day on our way here."

Rukia laughed, a tear falling down her face. Ichigo gave her a sympathetic look before reaching a bloodied hand up and cupping her face, using his thumb to wipe the tear off of her face. "C'mon, Rukia." He sighed, shutting his eyes, "I'm not worth crying over. Y-You should be happy. You won't have to put…up with me anymore."

"No, don't say that." Rukia pleaded, taking a hold of Ichigo's hand before reassuring, "You'll be fine."

Ichigo shook his head, his eyes shut and his mouth moving to form words, despite the fact that it hurt to simply talk. "I…I can't last much longer. You know that, and so do I. And…and I just want you to know-"

"Ichigo, please-" Rukia begged, holding his hand tighter.

"That from the moment I first saw you, there…there was something that I admired. Might've been the way you kicked me between the legs when we hadn't known each other for more than two minutes. But, j-just know…that meeting you….was the best thing that has happened to me. I don't regret…even a second…of time I spent with you." Ichigo groaned in pain before continuing, "And thank…thank you for being here. 'Cause seeing your face…before I die…now I know I can rest in peace."

"No, Ichigo." Rukia sobbed lightly, burying her face into the crook of his neck. "You're talking like you're going to die. Like I'm never going to see you again."

"I really don't want to die, Rukia." Ichigo's grin had vanished completely, being replaced by a sorrowful expression of knowledge that his death was quickly approaching. "I'm…I'm still trying to keep on living, but I only got so much fight in me, ya know?"

"You're going to be alright, Ichigo. You're going to be fine." Rukia murmured against his forehead, even though she really didn't believe the words herself. She watched several emotions flash across his bloodied face, most being pained and mournful, before he opened his amber eyes and looked back up at her. She leaned down and gently kissed him on the lips, tears freely falling from her eyes and onto the man's face. She was afraid to pull back, fearing that he'd slip away if she broke the contact with him. But when she felt him no longer kissing back, and his hand go limp in hers, she whimpered in a nearly inaudible voice, "Ichigo?"

Unohana walked up and placed her fingers on the side of his neck, checking for even the faintest sign of a pulse. After moments of searching, the woman shut her eyes and solemnly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Kuchiki-san."

"I-Ichigo?" Rukia repeated his name over and over, hoping for even the smallest reply, the slightest twitch of muscle or eyelid. She cupped his cold face, wiping the blood that had stained his skin off with her thumbs. His face had gone pale and cold, the familiar warmth that had once comforted her had become lost, being replaced by the chill of death. She sobbed openly, pressing her face into the bloodstained cloth on his chest, doubting that the bandages would be able to soak up all of her tears. Rukia put her ear against Ichigo's motionless chest, hoping for one last sign that he might be alive.

She heard no heartbeat.


	12. Revival

_Not too many people seemed pleased with the outcome of the last chapter. I can't say that I was too thrilled, killing Ichigo off and all, (sorry, Ichi!) but then that was the way things rolled. But, ya never know…_is _he dead? Seriously, is he undoubtedly, 100 percent, d-e-a-d? Have you checked his pulse? Have you even bothered to see if he's faking it? (The only one I've ever seen stop their pulse on command and live is Criss Angel, and that was just this year.) Now, I'm not saying that he's not dead, but maybe…_

_Why does everyone think that Ichigo's dead? Don't you have any hope? I've still got at least four chapters left that all have Ichigo in them! (Dammit, just spilled the beans.) _

_Anyways, you all will have to bear with me this chapter. What you are going to read will seem so impossible, so insanely unrealistic, that you will be thinking "What the hell kind of drugs are this person on?" But you know how they say that miracles happen, but that they're just few and far between? I don't think I've put a miracle into this story yet, so for this chapter, I give you the ultimate miracle (Besides child birth. That's later :D) Read and find out! _

* * *

Everything seemed to stop as all in the small, stuffy room looked at anything and everything other than the dead man laying in the table. The lantern on the shelf near the table revealed how deathly pale and cold he looked. The red smears of blood on his face and skin looked so abstract, like blood on snow. Not a muscle in Ichigo's body was moving, which shouldn't have surprised Renji, since that was rather common with dead bodies. But he knew that Rukia was blaming herself for the orange-haired man's death, and would probably never get over it.

Rukia pulled up from Ichigo's chest, looking at his face in desperate hope of seeing him smile, or see his eyes open and yell something cliché, like 'surprise'. But his face remained still and slightly serene, no sign of life being exhibited by the man. She knew he was dead; she knew it, but she couldn't accept it. She refused to believe that the one she loved was gone and would never be able to return. To her, he had seemed virtually invincible, like nothing could kill him, only wound him.

Rukia buried her face into the crook of Ichigo's neck, holding tightly to his motionless form despite the uncomfortable chill that had replaced the warmth he had shared with her so many times. She couldn't even find any consolation in his once heady scent that would put her to sleep late at night. All he smelt of was blood and sake, which she assumed the doctor had given him to dull the pain. All that was there was his body, and that did very little for the raven-haired girl except give her something to sob into.

She wished his strong arms would wrap around her body and hold her close, his voice whispering comforting and affectionate words into her ear. She wished he would look at her with the lively, amber eyes that told so much about their owner. She wished he would bend down and kiss her gently as he had the first night they kissed, his lips gently caressing her own. Rukia almost leaned up and kissed him, hoping to find some comfort in the contact that had given her peace of mind so many times before, but realized that pressing her lips to his and not feeling them return the kiss would be too much for her to emotionally bear.

Rukia could only hope that, wherever Ichigo was, he could feel how much she loved him and knew how much she missed him. She hadn't even told him goodbye, being in too much denial at the time to bid him farewell as his soul departed from his body. And he was gone…he was gone, and he would never come back. Each time she thought about it, a new wave of sorrow would sweep over her like a huge wave. She couldn't hear anything except for her heart sinking deep into her gut, and…

…a faint beating noise.

Rukia had to put her ear back onto Ichigo's chest, the tapping so nearly inaudible that she wasn't quite sure if it was real or simply a figment of her imagination. But, sure enough, there was a slow, faint beating that was the most precious sound she had ever heard. She pulled up and looked at his body, a hopeful smile spreading across her face as she saw one of his fingers twitch and his eyes move underneath his eyelids. "R-Renji?" Rukia asked, looking back at the man with large eyes.

"Hmm?"

"I think…I think he's alive." Rukia watched as Unohana gave her a puzzled look and placed a finger on the inside of Ichigo's wrist, her brow furrowing in concentration as she tried to search for a pulse that she was sure could not be there. The doctor seemed shocked at first, but quickly took control of the situation by placing her hand just above the man's mouth, searching for signs of breathing.

"He has a pulse," Unohana studied the man intently before continuing, "But he's not breathing."

"What do you mean, not breathing?" Rukia asked incredulously, looking up at the doctor. The thought of Ichigo being alive made her ecstatic, and she was going to tear hell itself apart before she let him die again. She opened his mouth and placed hers over his, exhaling deeply into it, but to no avail. "Why isn't this working?" She asked, placing her hand above his mouth once again to check for breathing.

"Because you're not doing it right." Renji growled, pulling the small girl aside. He grimaced at the man lying at the table before turning his head back to Rukia, sighing in an agitated manner. "_This _is the way that works." He curled his right hand into a fist and pulled it back, shouting as he dropped it and dug it deep within the man's gut, "Now, _wake the hell up_!"

"Renji!" Rukia shouted angrily, shoving the tattooed man away from the table violently. "What is wrong with y-"

Ichigo's eyes popped open as soon as the man's fist left his stomach, which earned surprised and shocked stares from everyone in the room, save for Renji. He started coughing violently, and turned over on the bloodstained table, retching and gagging loudly. "Dammit, Renji-" He ended up vomiting in mid-curse, his back arching as the last of the remaining contents in his stomach spilled out from his mouth. "You son of a bitch-" Another cough, then, "What the hell was that for?!"

"See?" Renji smirked triumphantly while crossing his arms over his chest, paying absolutely no regard to the enraged man who was shouting at him. "Told ya it would work." His head jerked to the side as soon as the words left his mouth, a wooden cup clipping his temple.

"Dammit! Why the hell did you just flat out punch me?" Ichigo yelled, wiping the vomit off of his mouth with a piece of bandage that was lying next to him on the table. He shot the tattooed man several other deadly glares before groaning and sinking back onto the table, his arm wrapped around his abdomen. He looked at the dismayed expressions of each of the people in the room, before asking incredulously, "What?"

"You _idiot_!" Ichigo's head clipped back as Rukia's small fist made contact with his jaw.

Looking back up at the petite girl with wide and unbelieving eyes, he rubbed his sore jaw and sat up, his face inches from hers. Both of their faces were twisted into angry scowls, and the man who had been dead only moments before shouted angrily, "You too?! What the hell is wrong with you morons? Did I die and go to hell? Is this what I have to look forward to?"

At that, Rukia viciously poked him in the stomach, ignoring the fact that it was still tender from when Renji had punched him, and shouted, "You'd better have a damn good explanation for this!"

"For _what_?" Ichigo shouted back, the sheer volume of his voice causing both Unohana and Renji to cover their ears.

"For dying, fool!" Rukia's voice was coming close to surpassing Ichigo's in both volume and deadliness.

"It's not like I could _help_ it! Look at what that bastard Aizen did to me!" Ignoring the pain, he pulled the edge of his bandages down to reveal the darkened flesh from the burning metal wound.

"Well you obviously could," She retorted, folding her arms over her chest, "If you're sitting here yelling at me."

"Miss Unohana, do you know what the term is for all of their fighting?" Renji asked, leaning back against the wall. "I'm just curious, because I don't think 'unresolved sexual tension' is a medical term."

"Shut up!" Ichigo yelled, earning another punch from the petite girl.

"Don't tell him to shut up!" She snapped before continuing, "He got you to breathe! He practically saved your life!"

"No, what he got me to do was barf my fricking stomach up!" Ichigo felt the urge to either rip the tattooed man's hand off, or drop the biggest f-bomb ever recorded, but decided to deal with his 'Rukia problem'. "Is this your twisted way of saying that you're glad I'm okay!?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is!"

A strange silence filled the room as the two looked at each other intently. Renji didn't bother saying anything because he knew that he was already walking on thin ice with the both of them, and Unohana was simply speechless due to the fact that Ichigo had died, managed to come back to life, and was still able to carry on a verbal conflict with someone. Finally, after a couple of minutes, Ichigo sighed and looked up at Rukia, before quietly saying, "Thanks."

"For what?" She asked just as quietly; she had expected him to simply grumble and lay back down, not give her any sort of unexpected benediction.

"For…for being here." Ichigo sighed deeply, searching for the right words to convey his feelings. He had never been a man who was good with words, and it was beginning to show. "I know…I know it was hard for you to watch me die, and I wouldn't have made you go through it if I had said goodbye in advance. I…" He swallowed his pride before continuing, "I just wanted to see you one last time. Sorry, I guess it was kind of selfish of me."

"No," Rukia stopped him, looking down at her lap as she adjusted herself so that she was sitting on the edge of the table. "I…I would have wanted to be with you. I guess…that if I had been in your situation, I would have wanted you with me, too."

"That's not going to happen, though." Ichigo stated, his hand holding hers in a gentle grip, his thumb stroking the back of her hand as his gaze met with hers. "Not while I'm around; no one's going to hurt you, not as long as I'm alive." His vow was made in a tone that was neither hard nor soft, but a voice that showed how determined he was to keep the promise he had just made. "And Renji," The orange-haired man continued, propping himself up on his elbows, "You let anything happen to her back at the palace-"

Renji smiled and nodded, holding his hands up defense, "Yeah, I know; I let anything happen to her, you'll kill me."

"Even if I'm dead, I'll still kill you." Ichigo's tone had shifted into a good-natured and playful one, signaling that he probably wouldn't carry out the threat. Grunting in discomfort, he used what little strength he had left in his body to pull himself up, wincing in pain as the movement put unnecessary pressure on his back and chest wounds. He gave a small smile, trying to assure the petite girl next to him that he was perfectly fine.

"You probably should lay back down, Ichigo." Rukia gently advised, moving so she could face him better. She frowned as he shook his head groggily, his eyes shut as he sighed deeply, the pain evident in the way his face became impassive.

"I'm not going to be able to return to normal unless I walk around and build back my strength." His protest almost sounded half-hearted, like he wanted to lay back down and fall asleep, but decided not to.

"The rehabilitation comes after the healing, Kurosaki-san." Unohana stated calmly, stepping towards the table. "Once your wounds have healed, you'll be perfectly capable of building back your strength. But in your present condition, I would be surprised if you could stand on your own, let alone walk around. For now, I would advise you take Kuchiki-san's suggestion to heart and get some rest. You've been through much in the past few hours; a little sleep and you'll feel much better." She quickly added when she caught sight of Ichigo's skeptical expression, "I'll have Kuchiki-san or Abarai-san help you walk around outside once your wounds have healed some."

At that, Ichigo hesitantly laid back down, shifting around against the hard wood. He gave Rukia a small smile as she tucked a pile of bunched up sheets under his head as a makeshift pillow before pulling a single blanket over his body. She gently smoothed the hair off of his forehead before asking, "Is it safe if he fells asleep?"

Unohana looked at Ichigo with caution, trying to decide whether him sleeping would be wise, considering the fact that he just died and, somehow, managed to revive himself. "I suppose it would be alright. But if you wish to stay with him, Kuchiki-san, then I would like you to keep an eye on his breathing. Come and get me at even the slightest sign that something might be wrong." She turned and walked out of the room, followed by Renji, who had a look on his face as if to say that there was some great joke he wanted to tell Ichigo and Rukia, but was using all of his strength to hold it in.

Deciding to humor the tattooed man for the time being, Ichigo smirked and called after him, "What is it, Renji?"

His grin becoming widespread, Renji turned back around and snickered, "You might want to do all of us a favor and resolve that whole 'sexual tension' thing. I really don't want to hear you two screaming at each other-" He stopped himself, a small laugh escaping his mouth as he corrected, "Scratch that; if you two do decide to resolve it, we'll probably be hearing screaming anyways."

"Screw you." Ichigo laughed, waving his hand at the older man to leave the room.

"She's closer." Renji pointed at the petite girl sitting next to the wounded man before finishing, "Have her do it. Besides, you can't afford me."

"Leave, now!" Both Ichigo and Rukia shouted, causing the tattooed man, who was having a laughing fit at that very moment, to turn around and run out the door before any inanimate objects could be thrown in his direction.

Rubbing his eyes, Ichigo gave a sleepy and rather loud yawn before asking groggily, "What time is it?"

"Probably a little after ten." Rukia replied quietly, softly stroking Ichigo's open palm with the tips of her fingers. She had to sit silently for a moment and take in all that had happened. Ichigo had died and, somehow, had managed to come back to life on his own. But he was alive, and at that moment, that was all that mattered to her. Simply out of curiosity, she asked, "How did you come back? After you died, I mean."

The question seemed to take Ichigo by surprise, that she could tell by the bewildered look on his face, but he gave a small shrug of his shoulders and replied, "Don't really know. I…" His brow became furrowed in concentration as he tried to remember what had happened, then he continued, "I guess I must have had some fight left in me after all. Besides," He smirked, reaching up and brushing his rough fingertips across her face, "I wouldn't leave you to Aizen even if I was dead."

She gave a small smile, holding his hand to her face; the warmth that had been missing from his body had finally returned, giving her a feeling of peace that only he had managed to give her. "Thank you."

"Now, what on earth could you possibly be thanking me for?" Ichigo asked, a small grin showing in spite of the painful aftershocks his sudden movements had caused his wounds.

"For coming back. I…I don't know what would happened to me if you really had died, and I don't even _want _to think about it. But…thank you."

Ichigo simply smiled, brushing the back of his hand against her face tenderly. He moved his hand to tuck a lock of silky raven hair behind her ear, keeping it still when she entwined her fingers with his. He winced and his breath slightly hitched when she mistakenly placed her hand on his chest to keep her balance. She quickly pulled back, looking apologetically at him, but stopped when he grabbed her hand. "No, it's alright. It eases the pain." He put her hand back over the bandaged wound on his chest, stroking it softly with his thumb.

"You know," Ichigo started rather nonchalantly, "Renji's suggestion wasn't all that bad."

"Ichigo!" She hissed incredulously, looking down at his innocent expression in disbelief, "Look at you. You can barely move. How do you expect to be able to do…_that_?" She finished with a slight blush, trying to avoid his amused eyes.

"Hey, now," He stated as-a-matter-of-factly, mock-seriousness becoming his evident expression. "Unohana-san just said that I couldn't walk. She didn't say anything about-"

"Don't say it." Rukia firmly shut her eyes, shaking her head. "Don't even _finish _that sentence."

"Alright, fine." Ichigo huffed, rolling his eyes sarcastically. "Can I at least have a kiss?"

"Ichigo," Rukia warned, but it was half-hearted.

"Aww, please?" Ichigo gave a childish pout, looking up at her with large, amber puppy-dog eyes.

"Fine," Rukia sighed in defeat, stating before bending over, "You're terrible."

"It's a gif-" He was abruptly cut off when she captured his lips with hers, her hand still on his chest. Not caring that he was unable to finish his sentence, Ichigo simply shrugged and cupped Rukia's face, breathing deeply when she broke the kiss. Their eyes met and they became motionless for several minutes, until Ichigo leaned up the few millimeters that separated their lips and kiss her again, expecting her to pull back and yell something about him reopening his wounds. Instead, she returned the kiss with as much force as he had put into it.

"Just…one kiss…eh?" Ichigo murmured between kisses, smirking against his partner's lips.

"Shut it." Rukia hissed back, her hands becoming entangled in his short orange hair. She adjusted herself so that she was also laying on the table, trying not to put any unnecessary weight on his body. She felt his hand leave her face, his fingertips brushing against her neck and onto her shoulder before traveling down her back and halting at her waist, pulling her body against his.

Ichigo found himself struggling not to get carried away, to keep it to just kissing and embracing, but quickly realized that, under the current situation, it was much easier said than done. He smirked once again when she moaned against him mouth, and he cleverly took advantage of the opportunity he had been given by deepening the already heated kiss. The soreness of his wounds briefly brought him back down to earth before he was shot back into the clouds when he felt her lips trail down from his mouth and along his jaw line. He was just about ready to abandon all forms of self control and take charge of the painfully slow process of getting to where he was hoping they were going, when the door to the room burst open, banging back against the wall.

"Renji, what the hell do you need!?" Ichigo shouted, angered that the tattooed man had chosen to present himself at such an inconvenient time.

"S-Sorry." He panted, gripping to the door frame for support. "But we have a rather large problem."

"What is it?" Ichigo asked, propping himself up on his shoulders.

Renji looked him right in the eye before replying, "Byakuya's here."

* * *

_Yes, it is very absurd, but not unheard of. I had to spend, like, five hours to find out whether or not a human body could revive itself. I saw it happen on BBC's Robin Hood, and decided to see if it could really happen. And, low and behold, it can! _

_Normally, if the person is a strong, healthy, individual in their late teens/twenties (Ichigo matches this description, yes?) Then their body can revive itself within a few minutes after their death. Unfortunately, this was all the info I could get. So, if anyone who knows anything about the medical field (GundamWingFanatic90, that's you) please put it in a review and I'll post it next chapter._

_Also, a little history lesson for all who have given up time out of their days to read my story. Rukia tried to use CPR in this chapter to revive Ichigo when Unohana told her that he was alive, just not breathing. CPR techniques only started devolving around 1750, but the earliest recorded attempt at CPR style revival was actually in the Bible. So quite a while before the 1700's, no? It's my guess that at least a few people tried it between those times :) _


	13. Taking A Chance

**_December 5, 1611_**

**_10:15 PM_**

"Byakuya's here."

The words sent a strange feeling of dread through the entirety of Ichigo's scarred body. It was like a prelude to some great conflict that was on the verge of breaking out. A conflict that he had thought had already been fought when Aizen had nearly killed him for the second time. It was becoming plainly obvious to the near-fatally wounded man that the hardest part in both his and Rukia's journey was standing right outside the door. And the worst part was, he had no clue how the situation was going to end.

Ichigo pushed himself up into a sitting position, his cramped muscles aching as he stretched them. As soon as he pushed himself fully upright, his mind, foggy from the alcohol that had served as a pain killer, began to swirl from the swift and sudden movement. The light-headedness that made him dizzy mixed dangerously with the nausea from his lack of food and blood loss. He clenched his eyes shut and took deep, heavy breaths as Unohana had instructed him to do whenever he felt as if he may pass out.

The dizzy man felt Rukia's hand gently touch his shoulder, her fingertips grazing the soft white strips of cloth that bound his chest and kept the gruesome wounds from bleeding excessively. "Lay back down, Ichigo." Her soft voice graced his ears, and for a brief moment he considered following her command. But he shook his head slowly, his scarred hands tightly gripping the edge of the wooden table.

Opening his watery amber eyes, Ichigo gazed at the tattooed man standing in the doorway. He carefully studied the look of fear and apprehension that shone within the crimson orbs. It was a look that told the wounded man that there was something more waiting outside than Rukia's adopted nobleman brother. He spoke in as forceful a voice as he could muster, though it was hoarse and ragged from his state of exhaustion, "What is it, Renji? Who else is out there?"

The older man looked away momentarily, as if he couldn't decide on whether or not to tell his wounded comrade the truth or simply turn around and walk back out the door. He sighed hesitantly, scratching the back of his head. "Well, uh…" Renji swallowed deeply before his eyes met with Ichigo's, his voice low and foreboding, "Aizen's out there as well."

The nearly insignificant feeling of dread suddenly exploded into a chaotic mixture of every different emotion Ichigo had ever felt. His stomach flipped and twisted until it had woven itself into a tight, nervous knot. He gave a deep sigh, one that Rukia recognized as a sign of surrender. The wounded man shrugged his broad shoulders, a strange smile playing at his lips. He gave a breathy chuckle, something that could have easily been mistaken for a half-hearted scoff, and murmured finally, "Well, guess the jig is up, eh?" He shook his head groggily, almost in a mixture of disbelief and acceptance of his inevitable fate. "Guess I can't run forever, now can I?"

Both Rukia and Renji exchanged slightly worried glances before shifting their gazes back to Ichigo. She knew he wasn't going to put up a fight; in his condition and under their current circumstances, he knew he didn't have a chance in hell of wining. She knew that he was going to walk out into the front room and offer no resistance whatsoever. She knew that he would allow them to take him back to the stuffy and crowded prison near the palace and await the trial he would receive for the trumped-up charges that Aizen would most definitely press against him. "Tell my brother what happened."

"What?" Ichigo turned his head to face her, the words she had spoken having been so quiet that he had almost though that it was his sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on him.

"If you tell my brother what Aizen did to you, what he did to your family," Rukia briefly paused when she saw a flicker of sadness flash across his eyes, but continued when he looked at her as if to urge her to finish the sentence, "Then my brother surely cannot detain you. Aizen has assaulted you more times than you have him. What he did to you today," She gently touched his bandaged shoulder before continuing, "was completely uncalled for. You did nothing wrong."

"Other than trespass." Ichigo stated in a completely impassive tone. He sighed heavily, shutting his eyes in a defeated manner. "No matter how we choose to look at this, Rukia, I'm still going to be put back in prison. There's nothing more than I can do." He gave a small smile, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "If I fight, I'd be endangering both yours and Renji's lives. I'd much rather take whatever kind of punishment they feel fit to give me than risk you life by engaging in some stupid fight we both know I can't win."

"My brother will listen to you." Rukia wasn't about to simply hand Ichigo over to what she knew would be his certain death. "My brother is not completely heartless. If you simply explain to him your position, he may understand. Your word-"

"The word of some man you brother has never met before will do nothing." Ichigo countered, his voice holding nothing but a cold sense of defiance.

"Perhaps not." Rukia acknowledged his comment, but quickly reasoned, "But if Renji and I can attest your story, then my brother will have to listen. Unohana-san can tell nii-sama of the severity of your wounds. It's all of us against Aizen."

Ichigo remained unconvinced, and it showed plainly in his expression. "And what should happen to you if your word makes no difference? You would be in serious trouble, not just with your brother, but with Aizen as well."

"None of that matters." Rukia looked Ichigo directly in the eye with a look that told him that she was not about to abandon him. "If I simply sit here and do nothing, then you most certainly _will _be in trouble."

"She's right." Renji leaned back against the closed door, arms folded against his chest. "You'll be in a pretty fair heap of trouble if you just give yourself up and let Kuchiki go by what Aizen tells him." He added quickly when he saw that Ichigo was still against the plan, "I know for a fact that Byakuya will listen to his sister, and if we can all counter Aizen's claims, you'll have a good chance of being pardoned."

"You're both insane." Ichigo sighed gruffly, shaking his head in defeat. His glance drifted from Renji to Rukia, his foggy amber eyes studying them one final time before he grumbled, "But I can see that no matter how difficult I choose to be, you'll both still be the same stubborn fools as you were when I first met you."

Both Rukia and Renji exchanged triumphant grins before they each took one of Ichigo's arms and hook them around their shoulders, helping him up off of the table. His legs were trembling under the strain of carrying his body while he was still so weak from the wounds he received from his brutal beating. He took a deep, shaky breath as he used all of the energy he could muster into taking several slow steps towards the door. He grumbled something about how ridiculous it was that he still wasn't strong enough to walk on his own, even though it had only been a few minutes since Unohana told him that he wouldn't be able to.

"Are you alright?" Rukia asked as he gave a pained groan, wrapping an arm around his torso as they halted in front of the door. She saw him nod hurriedly, glaring at the door as if he could see straight through it and directly into the other room. Ichigo unhooked his arm from Renji's shoulder and take hold of the door handle. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and all three walked through it, their entrance earning the gazes of Unohana Retsu, Kuchiki Byakuya, and Aizen Sosuke.

The air immediately became tense as Ichigo's eyes met Aizen's. The intensity of his glare seemed like enough to burn a hole right through the brown-haired man's head. But it didn't even seem to phase him, as he simply gave a false smile and raised a hand in a mock-greeting. "Hello, Kurosaki-kun." He frowned when he eyed the man's bandaged wounds, coppery streaks showing where the blood seeped through the numerous layers of cloth. "My, my. It appears you have hurt yourself quite badly."

Rukia stepped forward, still managing to help Ichigo stand, and shouted at the brown-haired man, "How dare you! Do you realize you nearly killed him? How can act so calm when you almost ended an innocent man's life?"

Ichigo, coughing lightly, put his hand on Rukia's shoulder to silence her angry tirade. He looked into the man's calm eyes and growled, his voice raspy and shaky but still holding all of the force it would have if he was well, "You come in here acting all innocent, but we all know what you really are. You think you could kill my family and me not drag you to hell for it? You even think for a second that I won't give you what you've got coming, then think again."

Kuchiki Byakuya studied Ichigo with a shrewd gave of contempt, as if he were eyeing a filthy dog standing on the side of a road. All in the room could tell that, already, Byakuya didn't think very much of the wounded man. He cleared his throat before asking calmly, "Are these boy's claims true, Aizen-san?" He diverted his gaze and looked back at Ichigo, who had not softened his expression for his sake. "Did you kill this boy's family?"

Aizen smiled and shook his head, waving his hand as if he were dismissing a petty matter. "The young man is probably delusional. It looks like he may have lost quite a bit of blood, and appears to have a touch of fever. He obviously doesn't know what he's talking about."

Snarling, Ichigo made a move to lunge at the man, but his weakened state slowed his attempt and was halted when Renji jumped forward and grabbed a hold of his shoulder and waist. The tattooed man pulled his friend back and, despite him knowing that he was in a lot of pain, shoved him back against the wall, holding him in place as he struggled against the older man's firm grip. "Are you out of your mind?" Renji hissed as he managed to get Ichigo to stop struggling and stand still. "You attack him here, and you'll be digging your own grave."

"Thirty seconds, Renji." Ichigo breathed heavily, his body feeling even more weak than it did before his tried to attack Aizen. "That's all I would've needed. Thirty seconds, and I probably could have finished him."

"You probably only needed fifteen. That's why I shoved you against the wall and held you down." Renji grumbled, turning around to face the two noblemen who seem slightly surprised by Ichigo's attempt to attack the sickeningly clam man. "My apologies, Kuchiki-sama, but you have to understand Kurosaki's position. Aizen killed his entire family just because his father was doing his job."

Byakuya looked at Ichigo again, and everyone who saw the look the wounded man was receiving could plainly tell that his outburst had not improved his image in the elder Kuchiki's eyes. "Who is this boy?"

This time, it was Rukia who stepped forward and spoke, "Nii-sama, this is the man who escorted me here. He protected me when we were attacked in the woods by a group of thieves."

"Kurosaki…Ichigo, was it?" Byakuya continued when Ichigo wordlessly nodded. "I understand that your father was a doctor. I heard that he and his family were killed under mysterious circumstances-"

"Slaughtered." Ichigo corrected coldly, his face nearly impassive.

"And that only his son survived, because he was out of the city. I take it that you're his son?"

"That's right." Ichigo nodded.

"And you say that Aizen-san killed them."

"When several fugitives escaped from the prison in Kyoto, five of them were wounded during the escape. They came to my father looking for help, and he took care of their wounds." He turned his gaze to Aizen, his teeth showing in a terrifyingly sinister snarl, and spat out, "And that bastard killed my family for it."

Byakuya looked at everyone in the room before sighing in a displeased manner. "This is a very complex situation you three are presenting me with. And your claims, boy, are not very believable. As far as I know, you have no proof to convince anyone that Aizen, in fact, did kill your family. I'm not inclined to believe you, but if both Abarai and my sister are defending you, then your story must have some sincerity to it."

"Shall I have the guards take him back to the prison so he can await trial?" Aizen asked almost nonchalantly.

Byakuya waved his hand, shaking his head and sighing heavily. "No. He can hardly walk as it is, so there will be very little chance of him escaping. He will remain here until his wounds have healed to some degree, and will be kept under arrest in this residence. Post two guards at the front of the house. When he has recovered, he shall stand trial."

Ichigo and Rukia both heaved a simultaneous sigh of relief.

Aizen simply smiled as Byakuya motioned for the petite girl and ordered, "Come, Rukia."

She sighed hesitantly, and asked with semi-pleading eyes, "Brother, I would like to stay here with Ichigo." She added quickly when she saw that he was unconvinced, "To help Unohana-san take care of him. She will need the help; with the severity of his wounds and his weakened state, it will be difficult for one person to help him walk."

Byakuya sighed and nodded, turning his back to leave the small house, "Very well, you may stay. But I do not want you alone with him. I do not know this man or his intentions, and until I do, I do not want you becoming too close to him."

_A little too late for that, _Ichigo silently commented, wincing as a small spasm of pain shot from his shoulder and though his torso. 

Byakuya walked out the door, but Aizen remained, the sickening smile still plastered on his face. "Kuchiki-sama, before we depart, I would like to have a few words with Kurosaki-kun…" He gave Rukia, who was standing at Ichigo's side with no visible intention of moving, a disapproving glance before adding, "_Alone_, if you please, Miss Kuchiki."

Swallowing, Ichigo nudged Rukia with his elbow, urging her to leave him and Aizen alone in the front room, even though he didn't want to be anywhere near that man. "I'll be fine." He reassured her when she kept herself firmly planted at his side, not moving an inch from where she stood. "He can't do anything to me here. Not with your brother and Renji right outside. Besides," He smirked cockily, as if Aizen were not standing there and couldn't hear the words he spoke, "Even in the state I'm in right now, I could still kick his ass."

"Don't start any unnecessary trouble," Rukia added affectionately before she walked into the back room with the blood-stained table, "Fool."

As soon as the door to the back room shut, Ichigo turned back to Aizen, his smile disappearing and being replaced by a dangerous scowl. His face was contorted into a feral snarl, like a rabid wolf before it jumped at its prey and ripped its throat out. Which, needless to say, he nearly did. "Well," He spat, folding his arms over his bandaged chest, "You've got me here. Not what the hell do you want?"

Aizen chuckled, placing a hand on Ichigo's wounded shoulder. He was applying no pressure to it, but the wounded man still felt nervous with his open gash under the man's thumb. "I praise you for your immense strength, Kurosaki-kun, as well as your will to survive." The calm smile on the brown-haired man's face nearly made Ichigo vomit. "I honestly didn't mean to kill you," He leaned his head forward, next to Ichigo's and finished, "I just wanted to make you wish I did."

Ichigo bit back a groan as Aizen tightly gripped his wounded shoulder, digging his thumb into the open gash with a harshness that nearly made the man scream out in agony. Trying to hide any source of pain in his voice, Ichigo bit out, "You won't kill me. I'm not gonna rest until I see your blood in the dirt, and make you wish that you never even heard of my family."

"Oh, but I can tell that this isn't just about your family, Kurosaki-kun." Aizen shook his head slowly, his grip tightening on the other man's shoulder. "You've fallen in love with little Rukia, and it would just tear you to pieces if I even touched her. Too bad for you there's nothing you can do about it. The wedding's in a few weeks, and by then , you'll be rotting in a jail cell."

"You're not touching her." Ichigo snarled, his statement causing the man to dig his thumb even deeper into the wound. "You so much as lay one finger on her, and I'll rip both your arms off and beat you down until you're begging for you pathetic life."

"My, my." Aizen said disapprovingly, slightly easing the pressure on the other's wound. "But you're wrong. Any way you look at it, you're going to die, and Rukia is going to be _mine_."

"Over my dead body, bastard." Ichigo snarled, his teeth clenched together in raw and intense anger.

"Perfect. I'll have it arranged." Aizen smiled and quickly sunk his thumb deeper into Ichgio's wound, the sudden and intense pain nearly more than he could bear. The brown-haired man roughly shoved the other into the wall, his back hitting it with a loud '_thud_' before slowly sinking to the floor, cursing as his shoulder wound began to bleed once again. He watched as Aizen paused in the doorway and grinned. "Have a nice day, Kurosaki-kun."


	14. On My Way

_Sorry. I know, I'm terribly late with this update. It was supposed to be up by last Friday, but my stupid computer refused to upload it. Oh, well. Here it is (finally); hope you all enjoy!_

* * *

_**December 11, 1611**_

_**7:30 PM**_

Ichigo grunted uncomfortably as both Unohana and Rukia worked to unwrap the layers of bandages from his chest and abdomen. The replacement of his bandages had never been the wounded man's favorite part of being stabbed repeatedly, and that was becoming prevalent as the strips of cloth disappeared from his body and left his wounds exposed to the cool air.

The gashes were nearly healed and, unless he moved around too much, would stay shut. For a few days after Aizen and Byakuya's appearance, Ichigo had contracted a weak fever and was still incapacitated from exhaustion and blood loss, but quickly recovered when he finally agreed to spend a few days in the bed he had been moved into. Needless to say, the bed had proven to be much better for him than the table had been.

Ichigo continued to fidget around the side of his bed until all of the bandages had been discarded, his wounds exposed for Unohana to check for signs of infection or anything else that might be wrong. His broken ribs were still bothering him, as well as the stab wound to his stomach, which refused to close heal and would throb ever so often. The skin around the burn wound on his chest had remained darkened and had turned rough, but the doctor had assured him that it would simply scar after a few weeks.

The wounded man winced slightly as Unohana gently probed the wound on his abdomen, small spasms of pain shooting through his lower torso. He put a hand over the wound, all of the poking and probing being done by the doctor making him too uncomfortable. Unohana let Rukia take Ichigo's hand before she continued to study the wound. She looked at the orange-haired man before asking, "Kurosaki-san, have you been leaving the wound alone and staying in bed?"

Ichigo looked away, slightly embarrassed by his evident lack of self-control, before replying, "No. I'll get up and try to walk, but I can't make it any more than ten minutes without any help." He nodded in thanks as Rukia handed him a cloth to keep over his wound as Unohana turned and opened a drawer, trifling trough bandages and bottles of pain medication.

But walking would have to be something he could master by the end of the hour, if he had any chance of gaining any favor from Rukia's impassive-faced elder brother. His desire to find and keep on the nobleman's good side was more for the chance to live another day and, more importantly, clear his family's name. Rukia, who had served as a godsend since Kuchiki Byakuya had left (or, in his eyes, since he had met her), had arranged the meeting so that the intricate web of difficulties and dire straits could be sorted out once and for all.

However, the meeting could very well work as a double-edged sword against the wounded individual, as she had told him the moment the notion was stated. While the meeting could very well free him of all charges that Aizen Sosuke would surly press against him the moment he believed himself to be in the clear, it could only get him stuck even further in the rut than he was already. Despite his instincts, Rukia had tried to convince him that the latter would only happen if he refused to take control of his "obnoxiously large pie hole."

Ichigo could simply add that on his list of things to master within the hour. As he had learned in his time of observing nobles, man with a boorish mouth was instantly dismissed as an impoverished rioter who deserved not even a second glance. And, of all things, a man who couldn't walk on his own was thought weak and pitiful, seeking support in areas in which he did not need any. And Ichigo was neither impoverished or weak, although, he admitted to himself, he tended to be a little boorish at times.

His clothes, which had been torn and tattered to nothing but strips of cloth which closely resembled rags, had been replaced by a black haroi and hakama very similar to his old garbs. He had also managed to give himself a much-needed and very relaxing bath and limp around the doctor's house with his crutches. Needless to say, it gave him a refreshing burst of pride to know that the end of his extensive recovery period was within sight, and he had been able to make it despite all of the bumps and roadblocks.

As soon as the fresh bandages had been secured around his torso, Ichigo slowly slid himself off of the bed until he was standing on his own. He tottered over to the corner of the room and grabbed his wooden crutches and followed Rukia out to the small cart that Renji was sitting in, obviously annoyed by the amount of time he had spent in the cold weather. "'S about time. Half thought ya kicked the bucket."

"Ha ha." Ichigo retorted dryly, attempting to pull himself up and onto the cart with little success. He cursed under his breath, but accepted the help Rukia and Renji offered and allowed himself to be pulled into the back of the cart by two pairs of hands. Settling himself against the hard wood, he looked up and cocked an eyebrow as the others looked at him with curious stares. "What?"

They both looked away, Renji retuning to the elevated seat and snapping on the reigns, the horse snorting at the unexpected command. The cart lurched forward and the wheels began to slowly plow through the snow-filled roads. For Ichigo, being outside in the fresh air, no matter how freezing, was something that he relished with every fiber of his being. He sighed, almost peacefully, as he watched his breath form into a ghostly mist before his face.

Twenty minutes passed in silence, and another ten of five-word conversations until they reached the masses of buildings that formed Edo. He could see the palace in the distance, towering over the other structures atop its low-rising hill. It would be difficult to stand before the man who seemed to care so little about his own sister and ask for forgiveness. No, he corrected himself. He would not ask for forgiveness, nor expect it; the forgiveness of Kuchiki Byakuya meant nothing to him.

"So," He sighed, tilting his head back so his amber eyes could gaze at the darkened overcast skies that threatened to pour feet upon feet of snow onto the city, "What's going to happen?"

"You're going to meet my brother. He wants to meet you without Aizen's opinion of you getting in the way. Your first meeting wasn't exactly…under the most savory of circumstances."

"Your brother," Ichigo started, his eyes cast downward at the wooden seat of the cart, "He doesn't like me very much, does he? I could tell by the look he had on his face when he first saw me."

"Nii-sama doesn't think very highly of anyone, not even of me nor Renji. And as for when he first saw you," She gently touched his bandaged shoulder, partially as a comforting act and as a gesture to prove the point she was going to make, "You were half dead and covered with blood and bandages."

Ichigo could only imagine how a judgmental man such as the noble Kuchiki Byakuya would have looked without the permanent impassive mask that always adorned his face. It couldn't have looked very good; he had been covered in blood, crudely-secured bandages, sweat, had probably smelled terrible, and had back-talked a man "of higher rank." He didn't want to think the Rukia's adopted brother was so cold that he would base the lifetime of an individual by the way they looked at one particular moment, but it certainly wasn't impossible.

"Will Aizen be there?" This time, it was Renji who asked the question.

"No, fortunately enough. He's on the other side of Edo meeting with Ichimaru." Rukia sounded rather relived, if not thankful. Everyone knew that it would have been a bloodbath waiting to happen if Ichigo and Aizen were within eyeshot of each other. Which was exactly why she had begged her brother to meet the orange-haired man that very day; the only day that Aizen would be gone. It took much more reasoning and compromising than She had initially thought, even with Renji's help. But, somehow, they had managed be granted one hour of Byakuya's time.

"What exactly are we hoping will happen?" Ichigo inquired, letting one of his arms rest on the edge of the cart as it clattered down the dirt and snow-strewn roads.

"A pardon, at the most." Rukia replied, her eyes gazing up towards the palace. "With any luck, he will grant you clemency and allow you to leave peacefully."

"I'm not leaving." Ichigo growled defiantly.

Rukia had expected him to say that, and knew fully well that he would most certainly fulfill that vow, but that only concerned her even more. She knew that, if the pardon were to be granted, Ichigo's choices would most likely be leave or detained. The petite woman also knew that he would choose the latter before he left, and would fight his way through every barricade and battalion of guards set in front of him.

Ichigo knew that the talk of him possibly being forced to leave upset Rukia greatly, so he wisely choose to silence himself. Yet, he couldn't manage to pull his thoughts from the wedding that, due to the current situation, had been postponed to the thirty-first of January. They had managed to improvise for the majority of their time together, not even bothering to think about the great possibility of them being separated permanently, but the time had finally come for a strategy, or even a haphazard battle plan, to be set into motion.

No matter how tempting the idea was, killing Aizen outright would not be an option, since Ichigo's evident hatred towards the man was extremely obvious. No, the cunning bastard would have to wait for another day. But his true problem would come from the revelation of his and Rukia's feelings for each other to Byakuya. As far as any of the trio knew, the elder Kuchiki had remained oblivious to the relationship the two possessed, except for a vague warning directed towards her on "not becoming too close" to him.

The cart slowly grounded to a halt as it reached the monstrous wooden doors and the white-wash walls surrounding the palace. Two guards, with two others still standing watch by the entryway, approached the cart with swords drawn. The first man nodded towards Renji, addressing him with a gruff "Abarai-san." He bowed at the waist and, much more pleasantly, greeted Rukia with "Good evening, Kuchiki-denka."

The gurad's eyes shifted to Ichigo, who glared at him with about as much distaste in which the man regarded him. He didn't waver under the orange-haired man's gaze, but was certainly discomforted by it. With a tone of deadly authority, the guard growled, "What is this blackguard doing here? You have no place within these walls, boy."

"Enough!" Renji barked loudly, immediately silencing the guard. "This _blackguard _is the man who escorted Kuchiki-denka here, and has been granted an audience with Lord Kuchiki within the hour. So please step out of our way, _gentlemen_."

Hesitantly, each of the four sentries stepped aside as the doors were opened and the cart clattered onto the more nicely-kept walkway. It was much more extravagant than Ichigo had remembered it being, and the fading sunlight added to the beauty and magnificence of a place he had only seen briefly once before. He found it hard to comprehend that it was someplace suitable for living rather than for show, but the Kuchiki clan resided here, and had done so for over a generation.

Hardly anyone was outside, and Ichigo couldn't believe that a manor of that magnitude would not be bustling with servants and guards. It was nice though, the quiet and solitude, and he found that it was easy to fall in love with a place like that. He would never want to live in a palace, but the building itself was something to admire.

With a jolt, the cart came to a stop near the stairway leading to the entrance. As all three exited, stretching cramped and aching muscles, a young boy came and took the horse to what Ichigo assumed to be the stables, or something to that affect. Even though he wasn't exactly thrilled about meeting Rukia's brother, it felt nice to test what strength he had regained.

"Are you sure you'll be able to walk on your own, Ichigo?" Rukia asked, eyeing the way he gripped the edge of the cart as he climbed out of it. She knew that he would choose to be stubborn about it and refuse any kind of assistance, even though all three knew that it would hurt him.

"Of course I'm sure." Ichigo roughly replied, more force behind his retort than necessary. "Besides, what would your brother think of me if I walked in clinging to his baby sister?"

It was a valid point, to be sure, but there was always the slightest of chances that Ichigo would finally step back and take the help given to him. It wasn't likely, and would probably never would be within their lifetime. Nevertheless, Rukia couldn't help but smile at the man's commitment and fortitude. She pulled on his arm, watching him carefully as he limped slowly towards the stairs.

Ichigo stopped at the foot of the steps, taking in a defiant breath of cold air. Not even bothering to pace himself, he marched up four of the stairs quickly, and five more at a somewhat sensible gait. The remainder of the steps were taken with a reasonable amount of caution, mostly in part to both Rukia and Renji keeping him from spending all of his strength on jumping up to the door without any regard towards the effects the exertion would have on his body.

He steadied himself as soon as they entered the doors, allowing himself a proud grin on making it farther than he thought himself capable of. "See?" He smirked faintly, thankful that it hadn't been as painful as he had initially expected. "Told you I could do it."

"Hey, now." Renji warned, though his congratulatory smile was still showing. "Let's just worry about your audience with Kuchiki-sama before we throw a party for your great achievement."

A low growl escaped from between Ichigo's tightly clenched teeth before Rukia gently pushed him towards a set of large and brightly-painted doors at the end of the lavish corridor. He went without protest, though the going was somewhat slow since he had used most of his energy showing off and running up the stairs. Another set of questioning guards and several minutes of waiting later, they all were allowed to pass into the room.

It was a truly fantastic work of art; bright shades of crimson, gold, and orange painted onto the tapestries lining the walls nearly made Ichigo's breath catch in his throat. His awe and reverence was cut short, however, as the cold and unforgiving eyes of Kuchiki Byakuya bored into his amber orbs. He truly wasn't afraid of the nobleman, but the sheer force of the glare certainly would have been more than enough to cut a lesser man down.

Renji nudged the wounded man's shoulder and the three walked forward, anxiousness showing in all of their eyes. The walk only seemed to take an eternity because of the gravity of the situation weighing down upon their shoulders. Halting before the nobleman, who was gazing at the group with a fair amount of distaste, both Rukia and Renji bowed at the waist, addressing the elder Kuchiki. Ichigo, however, remained fully erect, giving Byakuya the same glare that he was receiving.

After a painful moment of silence, Byakuya spoke with a voice as impassive as his face, "You do not bow down, boy?"

He answered firmly, voice as cold as ice, "No. I bow down to no man."

Byakuya nodded slowly, but did not speak for a long while. No one could tell whether Ichigo's actions, or lack thereof, had improved or lowered the nobleman's opinion of him. "I understand that you and Aizen-san are very displeased with each other. The two of you," He addressed the ones at Ichigo's sides, "seem to believe this man's story. Is it because you truly believe him?" His eyes drifted over to the crimson-haired man, "Renji."

"Kuchiki-sama, I've known Ichigo for nearly two years. He's honest; more so than most other people that I've come across. A battalion of my men came across his body just outside of Osaka and brought him to the command post. He was injured very badly and hadn't eaten in quite some time." He gave a sideways glance towards Ichigo before continuing, "As soon as I fed him, he told me the entire story. To check for legitimacy, I sent a message to a friend of mine in Kyoto, who confirmed that his entire family had been found slaughtered."

Byakuya blinked, then turned towards his sister. "Rukia? Why do you choose to defend this man?"

"Nii-sama, Ichigo is, as Renji said, extremely honest. While we were on our way here, a group of thieves attacked us. He nearly died while protecting me. I trust him with my life, nii-sama." Rukia couldn't believe that her brother was taking her seriously, but finished her statement nonetheless, "I believe every word that he has told me. He would risk his life to defend mine; why would he lie to me?"

There was a thick tension in the air, a kind of suffocating apprehension where no one dared to even blink. Even though it was virtually unbearable, none on the group faltered under the cold glare that was received from the nobleman. Sighing deeply, he leaned back in his chair and spoke, "Where are you currently boarding at, Kurosaki?"

He scratched the back of his head before replying, "I'm staying with a doctor just outside of town. Unohana-san is her name."

Byakuya seemed to be battling within himself, but over what, no one knew. "You will no longer be putting Unohana-san out. Although this goes against my better judgment, I am in your debt for protecting my sister. You may, if you wish, stay in this palace for the duration of your stay."

The offer surprised Ichigo greatly, even though his features betrayed it. He had expected a verbal altercation at the very least, not an invitation to live with a noble clan in Edo. He nodded and, mostly out of shock, simply replied, "Yes."

"Very well, then." Byakuya stated. "But first, I would like to explain a few guidelines. Although I am pardoning you and allowing you to stay here, you will still be under close watch. The only time you may leave the premises is to visit Unohana-san so your wounds can be mended. And, if I see you anywhere near my sister's room, I will have you drawn and quartered. Am I understood?"

"Yes." Ichigo nodded.

"Renji, please take Kurosaki to the guest's quarters. I am sure a night's rest on a comfortable futon will do him much good. Breakfast will be at seven o'clock sharp. If you are late, then don't even bother coming."

Heaving an inward sigh of relief, Ichigo and his friend both turned and exited the room, the aftershocks of the surprisingly calm meeting keeping their minds in a haze.

* * *

**_December 12, 1611_**

**_12:55 AM_**

Ichigo was damn tired. It was nearly one in the morning and the rest of the palace's inhabitants were fast asleep, yet he had only recently retired to his room. Although it was nice, his quarters were far too lavish for his taste. He had lived off of using his skill of swordplay to make the bare minimum, having enough money to purchase only a few of the necessities that were required by an average person. To suddenly be transported from sleeping atop rough wool blankets to resting peacefully in a building that housed one of Japan's most noble families was like being shoved into a completely different world.

Several hours of wandering the palace in the dim light offered by the candles lining the corridors had left him tired, hungry, and his wounds sore. He had exerted himself too much, he decided as he collapsed onto his futon with a sigh. He had walked too much without any aid and had paid no attention to the warnings that Unohana had given him before his departure. It wasn't the tinge of hunger that bothered him as much as the dull aching in his chest and legs and the nearly constant throbbing in his abdomen.

It was a shock to all that he hadn't managed to rip open yet another of his wounds as he strolled through the grand building. He had been so wrapped up in his extravagant surroundings to notice the very subtle shaking in his legs and how it gradually became harder to keep up with both Rukia and Renji. Just some rest, he concluded. Some rest and a nice breakfast come morning. He would continue with his self-made regimen of exercises to build back his strength and hopefully manage to find both himself and Rukia a way out of their perilous situation.

Ichigo didn't want to cause her any trouble, especially with her brother. And, even if by the extremely slim chance that Byakuya canceled the arranged marriage for Rukia's sake, what would happen? Ichigo had practically nothing to his name except for a shabby house that he was renting in Osaka, plus a few pairs of clothes and a sword. He had nothing to offer her, and that made him worry. And his occupation wasn't one of the best, either; he worked as a "sword for hire," so to speak. He acted as a hired guard for just about anything and everything, depending on who paid the most.

He dozed off every now and then, the soreness of his wounds gradually becoming sharper. He went in and out, almost in cycles, time becoming hard to measure. It would feel like five minutes when it had really been half-an-hour. He would be comfortable and uncomfortable, hot and cold, restless and at peace, all at the same time. It wasn't until he felt several cool, slender fingers smoothing back his hair that he fully came into consciousness. "Rukia?" He leaned into the touch, his eyes still shut.

"Yes, Ichigo?" She sounded concerned, but the reason for that, he did not know. He was too sore and tired to care about anything except her fingertips running along his scalp.

"What's wrong?" Ichigo managed to crack open a single bleary eye.

"You were mumbling in your sleep." She stroked the side of his face with the back of her hand. He had been mumbling, but not loudly or as if he had been frightened. In fact, she had been surprised that she had even heard him, considering how quiet and unintelligible the words had been. He had worn the expression that he saved only for when he was troubled the most, whether it be subconscious or not. She knew that he needed his sleep, and a restless night would do him more harm than anything else.

"I was?" He couldn't recall any dream that would have made him talk in his sleep. The wounds on his torso seemed virtually unnoticeable compared to the sharp aching of the scar etched across his back. He was going to regret over-working himself that day. "Might've been my wounds."

"Do they hurt?" She questioned softly, rubbing his unharmed shoulder with her free hand.

"Just the one on my back, actually." He opened his eyes fully, a rare smile spreading across his face. He took her small hind in his and kissed her fingertips, murmuring against the soft skin, "I'm fine, really. You've worried about me enough already, Rukia. I don't disserve this kind of attention."

"Yes, you do." She countered, though there was no defiance in her voice. "You're still recovering and need to be looked after. Knowing you, you'll run around too much and rip open your back again."

"Rip open my back?" Ichigo repeated questioningly, humor tainting his words. "I'm twenty, not eighty. Don't make me sound like an old man."

"Regardless, you're not immortal." She stated as-a-matter-of-factly, though her smile still shone in the nearly pitch-black room. "In the state that you're in right now, you could turn over in your sleep and tear something open. And I saw how you exerted yourself today. It was impressive in front of nii-sama, but it was becoming dangerous while you were simply walking with Renji and I."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, but took her concerns to heart. "Alright. I'll only act tough in front of your brother." It was a comforting mixture of humor and sincerity, something that seemed so unlike him that it scared Rukia at times. But she knew that she still had much to learn about him before she could completely understand his personality. He was complicated, not a simple man by any means, but a good one nonetheless. He looked up at her, sighing before he shut his eyes, "Shouldn't you be in bed? You need some sleep too."

"I'm too used to you being next to me. It gets too cold without you there." The statement made Ichigo smile kindly, a sight that she loved to see. And it had been the truth; it was noticeably warmer, sitting next to him and running her fingers through his hair. A comforting kind of warmth, a sense of euphoric safety, like there was nothing in the world but them.

He smirked, eyes still closed, "Your brother would castrate me if he knew you were in here." But he didn't complain when she curled up next to him on the futon, careful not to put any weight on his damaged shoulder. He truly didn't care if Byakuya found out; he would deal with the consequences later. All he wanted to think about was the feeling of her pressed against him, the only sound in the room being their quiet breathing

He was truly unique, Rukia mused as she dozed off; a one-one-of-a-kind, in a class all of his own. He was loud, brash, unrefined, and too ready to fight. But he had shown a completely different side of himself, a part of him that was kind and gentle and compassionate. The soft heart underneath his rough exterior. He had initially made himself seem uncaring and dismissive, but the way he spoke to her about Aizen, the way he showed concern for her feelings, made her think differently. He was someone she found that she could trust with anything and who would never laugh at her insecurities.

He was someone she loved.


	15. Rough Draft

_It took me so long to write this. There was originally only a little over three thousand words, but there was still so much more that I wanted to add, so this actually ended up being over five thousand words. I was in the home stretch last week, but I only had about thirty minutes per night to write, thanks to my mid-term exams. But I'm really pleased with how this chapter turned out. It shows me that I can take the meat of the story and use enough words to make it lenghty. I certainly am glad that I can raise my own bar, as far as fanfictions are concerned._

_I wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year!!!_

* * *

_**December 12, 1611**_

_**6:06 AM**_

The thunder was what woke him; a low, distant rumble that roused him from his sleep, much to his displeasure. He had been resting peacefully, enough so that he had opted to sleep through breakfast and lunch and into the late afternoon. He had eaten all his life; rarely, however, had he slept so comfortably as he had that night. His wounds had, sometime during the night, ceased to ache and trouble him. The entirety of his body was warm, his senses soothed by the presence of the girl sleeping in his arms.

Ichigo wondered if his chances of doing this were truly numbered. Being able to wake up and see the serine face that had captured his heart, to be able to hold her close and securely against his chest. That foggy feeling in his head, where everything was misty and the only thing he could think about was them, thinking the thoughts that convinced him that he was the luckiest son of a bitch on the earth. He would gladly trade everything that he had ever owned to wake up that same way every morning.

It was still very early, he could tell that much; he had spent so many mornings waking up before the sun even rose that the clock within him had set a permanent bell to go off somewhere around five or six o'clock. He would have simply gone back to sleep, had it not been for the troubling thoughts plaguing his mind. The date of the arranged wedding was drawing nearer every moment, and nothing had been resolved between him and the elder Kuchiki, nor Aizen. He could no longer take the pleasure of procrastinating, pushing the unpleasant notions into the darkest recesses of his mindscape; things would have to be sorted out, and quickly, at that.

The predicament was treacherous; although being frank and outright with Rukia's brother seemed like the easiest option, it was also the most dangerous. He was most certainly not on the man's favorable side, and simply expressing his feelings for the girl in front of him would not go without some bloodshed, or a fierce verbal altercation at the very least. Though, that truly seemed like the only way to handle it; as much as he wanted to, killing Aizen in cold blood would do nothing but get him executed and the name of him family stomped into the dirt and spat upon. All Byakuya would do was merely find another noble to marry his sister away to.

As he lay pondering, Ichigo couldn't help but think that he had caused Rukia a considerable amount of pain. He had nearly died twice, and she had shed more tears over him than what he was truly worth. When she cried over him, he only felt like crying himself. His self-worth wasn't high, not worthy of anyone's love and affection or worry. How had he become so lucky? Had his family not been killed and he hadn't sought vengeance, would he have ever been given the job to escort her? Would he have ever met her?

He had thought that he had been fine before she came along--he was a loner by both choice and profession, and had certainly not planned on changing. In a world of twisted thieves and crooked liars, the only man he could trust was himself. He was self-sufficient, fine without anyone, only striving to one day destroy the one human whom he despised and hated with every fiber of his being. He thought only of that glorious day when he would avenge the honor of his family from the most vile and corrupt of blemishes ever placed upon the earth. There was a wall of ice-plated iron encasing his heart, and that was the only way he thought suitable of living.

But she had changed all that. She had been shoved into his life, or more truthfully, he into hers, with nothing in common. No matter how annoying or heard-headed she would be, there was something about her that made him stop and look. Not a physical trait, not something easily noticed by and average onlooker; that sadness within the depths of those violet irises, the unwarranted concern that she showed for him, the respect she gave him, though he deserved none.

He'd never had that.

It was an unfamiliar concept to him, having someone who truly cared. The last time someone had even done so much as smile at him was when his mother had bid him a safe journey the day before his family had been mercilessly slaughtered. He didn't know how to react to what she was doing to him, what she was making him feel. He had never been in a position where he didn't know what he was feeling, what to call the warmth that would envelop his entire body every time he looked at her.

He figured that the storm was approaching Edo rather than retreating from it as the crashes of thunder turned from low growls into sharp cracks accompanied by flashes of white light. The only thing missing was the rapid tapping of raindrops on the windows, replaced by the silent fall of the soft snow. Lightning and snow, he mused with a smirk; both as different and night and day, clashing in the darkened skies, pouring the effects of the battle down upon the still slumbering city. Had it not been for the undeniably comfortable position his was in, he would have risen and sat by the window to watch the rare spectacle.

But he was fine with laying there for as long as he could, never releasing his embrace on the girl who continued to remain in a deep and, he hoped, peaceful rest. He would lay on that futon all day with her, so long as her brother didn't decide to barge in uninvited. Never before had he felt so much peace when his life was such a complexity that confused even himself. It was times like these when he could step away from the chaotic whirl and put everything into place, where he could stand above the pieces and put them together.

Sighing heavily, Ichigo pulled his free arm away from his side and hooked it around Rukia's waist, doubling the security of the hold. He didn't care if he seemed possessive; he would never let go of her, even if he had no strength left within him and every ounce of blood had been drained from his body. And that was his worst fear; that there would be a new series of bouts, a new opponent to watch over his shoulder for. A new opponent by the name of Kuchiki Byakuya.

He shifted around on the futon, trying to stretch his sleep-cramped muscles without waking Rukia. He grunted, propping himself up on his elbows and moving onto his side, cradling her head in his hand and gently placing it back onto the pillow. He allowed himself a small smile as he brushed the stray strands of black hair away from her face. He could now lay and watch her sleep instead of being able to savor the sight for only a few brief moments before he had to wake her for the continuation of their trek to Edo.

He raised his torso, letting its weight be supported by his propped elbow. He watched her face closely, watched how her small hand subconsciously wrapped around his. A simple instinct--she wanted to be near him, making contact with him, even in her sleep. Not a novel concept, really; he was quite sure he had done that several times in the past, while they had both been asleep. He was fine with showing affection in private, whether it be in his conscious mind or not.

Untangling his fingers from hers, he lifted his hand and gently brushed it across her pale skin, a sense of comforting contentment flooding his senses and threatening to spill over the remnants of the self-made shell around his heart. It would dissolve with time, just as the snow falling to the ground would melt. The self-made encasement around his soul would melt away with the help of her warmth, the warmth of his savior, the warmth of his angel.

She stirred as the pad of his thumb stroked the soft skin beneath her shut eyes, her reaction only being to move into the gentle contact, closer to his body. She gave a small smile as his thumb ghosted over her lips and across the side of her face, only a mere whisper of contact. Her eyes opened, sleep-fogged violet orbs making contact with lively amber. She stopped his hand as he retracted it, holding his scarred palm against her face. "It's too early," She murmured tiredly, pressing her forehead against his chest. "You should still be asleep."

"So should you." He countered playfully, letting his head rest back on the pillow. He wasn't ready to get up yet; nowhere near ready, and he could tell that she wasn't, either. "Too used to waking up this early, anyways. I won't even be able to go back to sleep, and even if I could, I'd just sleep all through the day and be up all night."

"You didn't seem to be too concerned about that last night while you were roaming the palace." She smiled as he gave a tired laugh, moving closer to his warm, cotton-clad chest. "We should get up soon. My brother will be awake before long, and we both need to get ready for breakfast."

He grumbled, slowly rising and sitting up on the futon, "A nightmare waiting to happen."

* * *

_**December 21, 1611**_

_**7:30 PM**_

Breakfast had, for the past nine days since Ichigo had accepted Byakuya's offer, consisted of several near-calamities as they had all sat down to stare at one another in complete silence as they ate. Silence except for, much to the orange-haired man's fury, constant critiques from the nobleman on every psychical aspect of Rukia. The first day had been bearable enough, though he had nearly lost his self control and struck out at her elder brother, his outbursts only suppressed by cautious glances that she sent towards him.

The following seven mornings had been spent by Ichigo glaring dangerously at the nobleman, who only returned the hidden threats with a careless attitude to go with his sharp, cold criticisms. And after each of those eight mornings, the swordsman would proceed to rant and curse her brother for such uncalled for and useless remarks. No human is without their flaws, their weaknesses, and he knew that all to well. The way her brother scolded her for making even the subtlest of errors in any and every irrelevant subject made Kurosaki seethe with anger.

It was only hours before she found herself waiting outside of her brother's chambers when the true disaster had struck.

Hesitantly, Ichigo had once again chosen to partake in another hour of silence and with bottled up rage sitting in his stomach like an anchor. The usual criticisms had begun almost as soon as the food had arrived, but he had stayed calm and had held his tongue for nearly the entire meal, until he had felt that Kuchiki Byakuya had taken it too far. Rukia had been nearly ready to leave the table after finishing her tea, but had ended up accidentally spilling half of the cup's contents on her kimono. Her brother had simply shaken his head, his impassive words holding a disgusting amount of sincerity, _"How careless. And to think that any suitable man would consider marrying her."_

Something had snapped; Kurosaki Ichigo had decided that he would no longer allow her to endure that kind of verbal abuse any longer. _"For Christ's sake! What the hell do you want from her?" _He had roared, jumping um from his seat and slamming his fist onto the table. _"No one's perfect, not even you! What did she do that was so wrong? Spill some tea? You had better be thankful that she hasn't slapped you in the face!"_

"_Ichigo," _The last thing she had wanted was a confrontation, she silently recalled as she waited by the large double doors of the palace.

But he had wanted no part in her protests against his outburst, and had continued with even more volume than before, _"Any man would be the luckiest son of a bitch in the world to have her!_ _I don't care if you're her brother, you have no right to make any kind of remark about her at all! If I hear another comment like that made in front of her, then I'll take your tongue right out of your mouth!"_

Her brother emerged from his room, dressed in elegant and noble attire worn by the head of Japan's largest and most prominent clans. He remained without emotion, as always, making eye contact with his sister for only a moment before striding past her. She followed behind out of instinct, and in hopes of learning where he would be leaving to on such short notice. As if he had read her mind, he spoke in the same dull voice that he always used with her, "I am leaving for a council meeting on the other side of the city. The nobles who will be attending your wedding have called an urgent gathering to plan for the joining of ours and Aizen Sosuke's clans."

Rukia shuddered, the mention of the wedding only ten days in the future knotting her stomach several times over. She followed the nobleman out into the freezing cold weather, where they stood in silence while servants and stable hands rushed to prepare his mode of transportation. "How long will you be gone for, nii-sama?"

"Five days." He glanced down at her with impassive eyes before stating almost casually, "Kurosaki seems to be rather protective of you. Tell me, what is he to you?"

"A close friend, nii-sama." She replied, turning her head away and breaking their eye contact.

"I see." The nobleman walked down the steps, but not before leaving the distraught young woman with one last icy command. "I expect this friendship to remain just that; a friendship."

Something inside of Rukia crumbled, was torn down from within. Perhaps the belief that she would be granted the freedom to choose between a sadistic murderer and Ichigo, or the courage to finally confront her brother with the fact that she did have feelings for the swordsman. Regardless, the next five days would need to be spent figuring out the most rational solution, though she knew that it would probably not be the easiest one. It would have to be one that they could come up with together and execute as a single mind and body, instead of improvising as they had been doing for the past several weeks.

She decided that it would probably be the best time to offer Ichigo the dinner that he had skipped, and began to head towards his room at the far end of the palace. If he was the same with meals missed out of anger as he was with accepting help, she knew that he would rather starve than give in. She would give him the time that he needed and, unless he took it too far, would refrain from taking several rice balls and shoving then down his throat.

She knocked on the door, then slowly opened it. He had been sitting on the futon, a look of grave frustration plastered to his face. He had been shut in his chambers for nearly twelve hours, refusing to leave even for lunch or dinner. The cooling off period that he required after the outburst was not yet complete, nor was he ready to face that despicable nobleman and keep from spitting at his feet. He looked up, only for a moment, his expression softening briefly before going back to the same fierce scowl. "I came to see if you wanted some food."

"No, I'm fine." As stubborn as any angry child, she mused as she slowly walked over and sat down beside him. She knew that he would not easily be comforted from the hate that he felt towards her brother for the needless critiques he had made, so she sat in silence until he wanted to talk. It was a while before she gently rubbed the back of his neck with her hand, hoping that it would at least calm him enough to where he would be able to engage in any form of conversation.

He finally sighed deeply and rubbed his face, his voice, hesitant, troubled, "I haven't made things any easier on you, Rukia. This isn't going to get any better, and I'm not sure if we'll win."

She suddenly felt entirely sympathetic for him as the remorse shone within his eyes. Not remorse for his tirade, but for perhaps destroying any chances they had of gaining Byakuya's favor and calling off the arranged wedding. "That's nothing to worry about, Ichigo. Everything will work out, whether the outcome is good or not."

"I lost it." He ran a hand through his hair, physically antagonized by the situation that he had unknowingly put them into. "Something just _snapped_. I can't understand why you haven't ever yelled at him before, cracked the same way I did. You shouldn't have to take that; no one should."

She looked at him kindly and rubbed his back, feeling his muscles relax under her gentle touch, and consoled, "You shouldn't be getting mad at yourself."

"You're right. I should be angry at your brother, or at least at his ignorance. If he hadn't made any of those remarks, then I probably wouldn't have shouted at him."

The only comforting aspect of the several moments of silence that followed was that he seemed to be unwinding, opening up to her after being closed off for nearly the entirety of the day. It wouldn't necessarily blow over with time, but the thought put into the argument that day would eventually subside into nothing but a distant memory. "You really should have some dinner." She pursued softly. "My brother's gone, so you don't have to worry about some kind of fight breaking out between you two."

"Talking about him made me loose my appetite." He turned so she couldn't see the smirk playing on his lips, though she knew it was there. Facing the large window that looked down upon the city of Edo, he let out a lengthy, tired sigh. "Where did your brother go, anyways?"

"There was a meeting that came up today."

Ichigo grimaced as he mused over what meetings amongst nobles were like. A nation-wide accumulation of arrogant superiors in a convention of Japan's high aristocracy, all within one building in a single city. The thought of all those high-strung upper-classmen standing about in elegant clothing with nothing but the talk of politics and the suppression of troublesome insurgences floating above the air made him all the more thankful that he wasn't bred to act in such a way. At the very least, he was appreciative that he was in his room instead of being subjected to that kind of mental torture. "Did he tell you what it was about?"

"He was meeting with the nobles who will be attending the…" There was nothing neither of them could do, she concluded during the brief pause as her eyes shifted away from his. The wedding would commence as planned, and she would be forced to spend the remainder of her privileged yet deprived life with a heartless murderer. "The wedding." She buried her face in her hands, in disgust at herself. "Ichigo, you should have gotten out when you still had a chance! When no one knew!"

"Gotten _out_? What the hell-"

"_Look _at you! For Christ's sake, _look_!" She pulled the sleeve of his haroi down, the shoulder of the loose-fitting jacket slipping down to reveal the thin layer of bandages looping around the crook of his neck and encompassing his chest and the top of his abdomen. "_That_!You went through all of that just so we could end up being torn apart in the end! Why do think that all of that pain was worth it, all the pain that we're going to feel?"

His eyes had gone cold; hard and cold and piercing, the same way they would always look when she had first met him. She had angered him, somehow, which wasn't easy for her to do, and she knew that he would have stern words at the ready as soon as he was able to speak. His body was rigid, a kind of posture that conveyed his dissatisfaction towards her concerns, no matter how sincere they were. "I didn't want to get out, Rukia. I never would have said what I had said to you, done what I had done, had I not been completely convinced that I would be prepared to suffer any of the reproductions of my actions."

"But look at what those repercussions were." She seemed more quiet, more apologetic, as she gently touched his bare arm. "Repercussions that you went through because of _me_. You don't know how responsible I feel for all of those wounds, all of that pain that you've had to go through. And how much more will you have to go through within the next ten days, or after the wedding? What it all comes down to is that _I _gave you those wounds. They're _my _fault."

He wasn't angry anymore. He felt guilty and confused and angry at himself. "What…what made you think _that_?" He framed her face with his hands, tilting her head towards his face, before explaining, "You're right; I didn't have to go through all of that. I _chose _to. If I didn't care about you, if things had stayed the same, then we wouldn't be here. But this is exactly where I want to be. I want to be able to say that I was in love with you, even if it will eventually come to and end and we'll have to go our separate ways. I'm happy that I was wounded, that I bled, because it gave me more time to be with you." He sighed deeply before continuing, "I promised you that I'd get you outta this mess, one way or another, and I intend to keep my word."

Never before had he poured his heart out as he had then. It had floored her, seeing the serious expression he wore as he spoke, hearing the unwavering honesty in his voice. She could clearly remember the words he had spoken, the look he had in his fiery amber eyes. _"If you can't find a way to convince your brother that Aizen is not fit to marry you, then I'll find one for you." _He was keeping his promise, but what about her? "I…I promised to take a chance on you."

Ichigo nodded before asking, "Do you regret it?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Then I don't regret these." He gestured to his wounds, a small smile growing on his face as he tilted her head towards his with his index finger. "I love you, plain and simple. Even if we can't make it out of this, the time that we've had together will be enough for me."

This was the side of him that made her heart melt, that gave her the courage to take on a new day. The side that had been bottled up within him for so long, that had hidden away from the cruel, unforgiving world of lies and hate. The carefree, fun-loving boy within him that had nearly died along with his family. She reached up and gingerly touched the bandages that hid the wounds she still felt that she had caused. "I wish I could heal these for you, make it so that you never had to feel the pain."

"The pain's helped make me who I am." He cupped her face, the corner of his lips twitching up into an odd half-smile before resting back into the more sober, serious expression he usually wore. "I can't promise you that it'll work out perfectly, but one way or another, it _will _work out." He bent down, hesitating only for a moment before pressing his lips to hers.

There was more to the kiss than there had been in the past; there was more need, more hunger, but he could still taste the same innocence that had been shared since the beginning. His brow furrowed and a frown creased his features as he felt more of her emotions begin to pour into the contact. Worry, sadness, fear--exactly what he was intending to help rid her thoughts of. He pulled back, only slightly, looking into her eyes. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. We both will. I'll die before I let Aizen lay a single finger on you."

That was where the fear had come from. He was rash, far too much for his own good, and would undoubtedly jump at the first chance given to him to spill the murderous aristocrat's blood. He _would_. She could see it all play out, almost as if she had been there to witness his first vendetta ride. The murderous rage within his irises, the sword clenched within his powerful fist, the accusations and obscenities that he would shout. Win or lose, he would be put to death before her eyes just for rekindling the conflict. She had almost lost him twice, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to bear the actuality of his death, if it ever occurred. So she clung to his haroi like a child, kissing his deeply, passionately, intent on keeping him from doing anything foolish enough to kill him.

He kissed back, measuring his movements, careful not to take the current situation past the point of no return. She was something to admire, to move with carefully, like a fragile porcelain doll. He felt that if he kissed her too roughly, held her too tightly, that he would unintentionally harm her in their blind passion. But the feeling that was welling up from within him, an insatiable hunger that, if not properly contained, would control his entire body, was becoming increasingly harder to suppress. He desperately wanted to give into his desires, toss aside his control and sense of self-preservation, but knew that it wouldn't be right to set aside her feelings for his own. If she wasn't ready, he would move no further than where he was then.

He stopped his hand from traveling any farther back as it made contact with her hip. A mixture of every emotion he had ever felt whipped through him as she gripped his shoulders, lips pressed firmly to his. Almost out of instinct, he angled her head to the side and deepened the kiss. It had happened without him even controlling his actions, an instinctual reaction to their position. He pulled back quickly, ashamed at his lack of self-control, as she shuddered against him. "I'm sorry. That was too fast; I should have stopped myself."

She shook her head, letting it fall against his good shoulder as she touched her lips with her fingers. "No, it's just that…" The words disappeared in the air as she tried in vain to sort through all of the thoughts running through her mind. "I…I've never felt like that before." She wanted, _needed_, to be with him, to be a part of him. He was the sole human being on the earth that she would disappear without. She would have given all of her worldly possessions away just to have him, with no interruptions or worries about the consequences. Everything he had given her, she wanted to give back to him tenfold. All of the love and warmth and comfort, the qualities she had nearly forgotten that people possessed.

It was refreshing to hear that the feeling between them was mutual, even though he had always known that it was. God, how he _wanted _her! It wasn't an instinctual, animalistic desire for release--it was a newly unearthed feeling, a craving for something he didn't even realize he had wanted. To feel every inch of her smooth, pale skin, run his fingers through her silky raven-colored hair, drink her in like a rare form of aged liquor. Every inch of him shook with a powerful passion that came from deep within the bowels of his soul, tremors so raw and strong that they nearly drove him over the edge of control and made him take what he wanted.

But he moved away yet again, cursing his chivalrous ideals, before stating in a voice thick with hunger, "We should stop this now before it gets out of hand. I don't want to make any moves that you won't be comfortable with."

"No, Ichigo. I want this." That voice, that beautiful melodic voice that tempted to toss aside his self-restraint and do just what ever the hell he wanted without any cares whatsoever, floated into his ears and carried with it the words that made his heart nearly stop beating. "I want _you_." The trust that came with the statement gave him a burst of pride and the feeling of significance, yet another emotion she had resurrected from his pounding heart.

He wasn't taking any chances, however; he needed to be sure that she was completely positive, that there wouldn't be any regrets due to the consequences of their actions. His eyes searched hers intently, still not completely convinced. He wouldn't want her to do something that she didn't want to do just because of his feelings. "Are you sure? You do realize that you might become-"

"Yes." She reached up and stroked his face, memorizing the way his warm skin felt beneath her fingertips. "And I would be perfectly fine with that." She saw that he remained unconvinced, and leaned up, placing a kiss on his lips that nearly shattered his heart.

Everything would be alright, he decided as he leaned over her and enveloped her lips with his in a passionate kiss, his hands traveling down her body. They would have their time together, as a part of each other, a time to forget about the crazy, damned world outside of the four walls that encased them. Everything would be fine for the both of them in the end. When the smoke cleared and the battle over, they would walk out of it with something neither of them had expected, something that was bigger than the both of them. So, as he wrapped his strong arms around her waist and let his lips travel down her neck, he made a silent vow for both her and himself:

They would win.

* * *

_Wow. I've never really written anything like that before. I can't tell whether or not it was good or bad or just alright. It certainly wasn't a lemon, probably not a lime...an orange, maybe?_

_Happy Holidays!!_


	16. Before It's Too Late

_Wow. That update took forever. Sorry that I've been so late, but I have a billion things going on right now and can't find any time to write. I should have quite a bit of time to work this week, because we have it off. But I will warn you all, updates will only happen maybe about once or twice a month, because on top of school, I'm joining the Civil Air Patrol (the original ROTC). So, all in all, stuff will be spaced out quite a bit. But, on the bright side for all of the die-hard anime-con goers like me, Momocon at the Georgia Tech Center in Atlanta, Georgia is exactly one month from today!! I have to go wash my costume...where the hell are the shoes?! Dammit, now how will I find them? My room's a mess!_

_Enjoy the story. BleachBox out. _

**

* * *

**

_**December 22, 1611 - **__**5:52 AM**_

Never before had she seen him sleep so peacefully as he had that morning. No troubled dreams plaguing his mind or keeping him from resting; just the tranquil slumber that allowed them time to forget about the world. There was something about the way he looked at that moment, the way his disheveled hair fell over his face, the way his features had grown lax and free from the normal signs of his frustrations, the way his usual intimidating scowl had been replaced by a faint upward curvature of his lips in a nearly unnoticeable subconscious smile; those subtle changes made her love him even more.

He looked happy, something that, when she had first met him, she had never thought he could become. He had been mean, rude, uncivilized, and, as far as she knew, wanted nothing to do with her._ "She doesn't look like much," _he had said gruffly during their first meeting, completely disregarding the fact that the one he was speaking of was standing only two feet before him. In turn, she had given him a scowl that could almost rival his own and had proceeded to deliver a swift kick to his groin. And it was almost beyond her as to how they could have gone from two people who argued constantly to two people who would trust each other with their own lives.

He shifted in his sleep momentarily, almost turning from his stomach to his side, but opted against it and kept his arm wrapped firmly around her petite waist. She found it almost amazing how, even though he was in an unconscious state of mind, he could control every move his body made with as much precision and care as if he were fully awake and looking her in the face. But then, she pondered as his warm breath drifted onto her bare shoulder, he always checked each action he made when he was around her with an irregularly large amount of caution and restraint. It almost seemed as if he were scared at times, though what would possibly frighten Kurosaki Ichigo, who was one of the single most courageous and fearless men she had ever known, she had no idea.

Though she too was scared at times, not often, but enough so that she could recognize it. It was the unmistakable fear of him dying, fear of him being hurt again because of her. All that he had been forced to undergo since meeting her, the wounds and the torture and the near-death experiences, would keep her awake until later than midnight, though he had tried nearly every time he noticed to ease her fears. "I'm not going anywhere," he would say, holding her close to his body. "I'll be right here next to you, even when you don't need me." Those words, though repeated often, made her heart swell with unrestrained joy, hearing the unwavering honesty in his baritone voice and feeling him kiss her temple in a kind of gesture that told her to push all of those dark thoughts into the back of her mind.

And she had been scared the previous night as well. They both had been, for they were at an equal understanding that it was a monumental decision that would result in an explosion of repercussions that they would have to confront. But they were also at an equal understanding that, no matter how negative or earth-shattering those consequences would be, they would face them head-on together. She knew that he would always be there for her, no matter what, and she prayed that he knew she would always be there for him.

Though he was rough on the outside, she knew first-hand that he was also benign and tender, a small, loving child that had been kept locked deep within a ferocious-looking exterior. He had greatly supported that observation the night before, as well. The gentle nature of his actions, touches, and caresses had all but made her heart melt inside of her chest. He had shown immense concern through the short time she had been in pain, repeating over and over again in a quiet, soothing whisper that he would stop the very moment she felt uncomfortable, the very moment when she felt that she wasn't ready. And the way his eyes looked when they met with hers, the amber irises filled with love and passion that she had never seen within them, had made her breath catch in her throat.

She moved from her side to rest on her back, her fingers entwining with his. He stirred as he felt the wool futon shift beneath him, his eyes slowly opening and a smile gracing his features. There was a certain air of completion and happiness that seemed to emanate from his being, something that warmed her soul as he looked at her with the compassion that only he could display. He tilted his head down and kissed her shoulder, murmuring against her skin words which she could not make out. "What?" she asked, relishing the feel of his lips against her bare skin.

"I'm not letting go of you." His lips curved upward as he planted another kiss on her shoulder, his strong arm holding her small body against his. "We're staying in bed all day. I don't care who the hell comes knocking. I won't let go."

"I would like that." Both Renji and Byakuya were gone, and would be for the next four days. The only other people within the palace besides themselves were the servants and a handful of guards, who wouldn't dare so much as tap on a chamber door unless it was of the utmost importance. And she certainly wouldn't mind staying like that for the rest of the day and into the night, or for the rest of her life, for that matter. It felt to her as if heaven and the real world had switched places, giving them the invaluable chance to be a part of each other, to hold and feel and kiss each other as if there would be no tomorrow.

He lazily pulled his lips from her shoulder and moved back upwards, looking deeply into her eyes as she did the same. It made his heart soften at the sight of her violet orbs becoming locked with his amber ones, a kind smile being shared between them. He tilted his head down and kissed her gently, pressing his lean body against hers. "You've finally done it, Rukia." Before she had a chance to inquire as to what it was she had done, he claimed her lips again, pulling back only slightly before continuing, "I used to not want to fall in love, to think that I was fine on my own. There was some wall surrounding me, and you managed to bring it down." A light laugh, then, "You've turned me into a sentimental softy, dammit."

She had never seen him in such high spirits so early in the morning, but she took solace in seeing him enjoying life. He laid back on his stomach, heaving a peaceful sigh as his muscles slowly relaxed. Never before had he felt so complete, so at ease in spite of the chaos that seemed to consume his life almost constantly. In the complexity of the predicament, this was the only simple thing he seemed to know: they loved each other. And he would be damned if he lost her or became lost himself, no matter how hard opposing sides tried to rip them apart and tell them that they were wrong, that they couldn't be together. She looked at him as he said her name quietly, as if he were preparing himself for a question.

"Where…do you want to go?" he asked, almost inaudibly, as if he were embarrassed by the question. "After this, I mean. How will we handle your brother and Aizen? As much as I don't want to think about this right now, we have to agree on some way to deal with this before the wedding."

She had given it some thought the previous night as she laid in his arms, curled against his chest in the euphoric afterglow, but had opted against confronting the unsavory circumstances. "As soon as my brother returns, we will speak with him. I'd much rather do it before he comes back, but it would not put him in a very good mood to be interrupted at a council meeting."

"And if he doesn't listen?" Ichigo replied, cocking an eyebrow.

"Your call, then. I can't come up with anything else."

He nuzzled her neck with his nose, breathing in her scent before countering, "No. My life won't be the one that's changing. I want you to decide instead of just following along with me because you think it's what I want."

"What was that word you used? Elope, was it? Perhaps that would be best if nii-sama ignores us." She felt him smile broadly, like a child who had just received a new toy, and shivered as his hot breath bathed her throat.

But then the smile disappeared as his lips pursed and his brow furrowed. He tilted his head up but dared not to make eye contact with her. "I…you wouldn't want to do that, Rukia. At least not with me, you wouldn't." He kept his eyes on their entwined fingers, a look of shame crossing his face as she gently asked him why. His voice low and hesitant, he slowly began to explain, "I barely have enough for myself as it is. I work a terrible job of guarding just about anything and everything for a dirt cheap price, because that's all I'm worth. I'm renting a shitty two-room house with hardly any furniture, and only as much food as I need. You…you wouldn't want to be with me like that. You deserve a whole lot more than what I'm capable of giving you."

She looked at him with stern eyes, though there was a kind of tender consolation that came with the gaze. She turned onto her side to face him fully and framed his face with her hands, forcing his shamefaced eyes to make contact with hers. "You told me this the night you first kissed me, remember? I didn't care then and I don't care now, because none of that matters. If you'd be there, then I would be perfectly happy."

"There's no changing your mind once it's set, is there?" He sighed, defeated, though the playfulness was beginning to creep back into his voice. There was a brief moment of silence as she nodded her head, and he rolled his eyes, shifting onto his back and cradling her small body against his. He realized that he would still feel guilty, not being able to give her what she had grown up with, but felt a burst of pride knowing that she would be willing to leave behind everything for him. "I think that's the single nicest thing you've ever said." He grunted as she elbowed his side, far enough from his wounds that the blow wouldn't damage them.

For a long time, there were no words exchanged between them, both sitting in a silence that spoke for itself. She rested her head on his chest, careful to avoid the wound near his shoulder, and fought off the urge to drift back into a sleep induced by the rhythmic beating of his heart. A question arose in her mind, though she didn't know if it would be wise to ask him for fear of resurrecting all too real memories from his traumatic past. Her index finger lightly traced abstract designs over his skin as she asked quietly, "Is that why you're scared?"

"Scared?" he repeated, perplexed by the sudden question.

"There are times when you seem frightened, like there's something bothering you," she replied timidly, choosing her words carefully. "Your eyes will become distant, like you're thinking about something that you don't want to. And then you'll snap back into reality, but the after effect is still there. You look pained, saddened, like there's something terribly wrong but you don't want to talk about. Like you just want to keep it bottled up inside and carry the burden alone."

His grip on her eased as the question registered in his mind, flashes of images from a past so distant and yet so vivid passing through his mind. The embrace tightened again as she murmured an apology, which he immediately quieted with the firm shake of his head.

"There's…there's lots of stuff that bothers me, a whole lot more than I let on. I could go to my mother about anything that frightened me or disturbed me, but after she died, there was no one left who wanted to listen. So I went with everything kept inside, maybe hoping that it would make me stronger, or that I would forget about it one day. Talking doesn't come naturally to me, because there's no one to listen."

"I'll listen." she offered, pulling herself up onto her elbow and running her fingers through his hair, the kind action appearing to comfort him.

For a moment it seemed as if he wouldn't speak, that whatever it was would be far too painful to talk about. But he began eventually, eyes diverted from hers as he hesitantly began to explain, "You know about what happened to my family, about how they were all killed when I was younger. But there's always been some feeling…a feeling like it's my fault they all died. Like if I had never come around, none of this would have happened." He looked up at her, his eyes shining with such despair and anguish that she couldn't help but become saddened as well. "And that I could I hurt you."

The concluding statement sent a shockwave of confusion throughout her body. He was frightened of hurting _her_? If anything, she should have been the one afraid of hurting him, and not the other way around. Continuing to comb her fingers through his sleep-tousled hair, she whispered in a voice that clearly showed the bewilderment his words had brought her, "How could you hurt me, Ichigo? What are you talking about?"

Ichigo reached up timidly, like a frightened child grabbing for his mother, and gently cupped her face with his scarred hand. As if he were breathing his final words, he spoke, "After my family died, something inside of me changed drastically. I thought it was normal, and at first, I just ignored it. But then I went after Aizen, and when we fought…I was a completely different person. All I wanted to do was kill, but the problem was that it didn't matter _who _I killed, just as long as someone died. I didn't feel like myself, hell, I didn't even think I looked like myself. So what happens if I fight him again? Am I going to stay that way, erratically violent, for the rest of my life? For Christ's sake, what if I go after _you_?"

He was afraid of _himself_.

She held him tightly, wrapping her arms around his chest and kissing his forehead, wanting nothing more than to rid him of his nightmares. "Don't talk like that. You've never hurt anyone, and you've only killed to defend. You're not a murderer. I know you, Ichigo. You're kind and gentle and caring, and you'd never hurt someone unless it was completely necessary. All of this is working you up to where you're becoming hysterical, and you need to lie back and just breathe."

She kissed his brow as he shut his eyes and began to breathe slowly, the anxious heartbeat she had felt pounding beneath his flesh gradually subsiding into the rhythmic beat that would lull her to sleep late at night. During the time when he had been blaming himself, she had grown frightened, scared by seeing someone who was so strong nearly fall apart, by the one who would comfort her having to be comforted himself. He tilted his head up and kissed her soundly, his hand holding her face to his. "I'm not letting go of you," he murmured. "Just promise that you won't let go of me, either."

"I promise." She kissed his face, still not completely positive as to what had just transpired.

"I'm sorry." He muttered brokenly after a few moments, the shame back in his voice. "I just don't want to think about what could happen." Putting his arms around her waist, he cautiously turned them onto their sides, her head buried in the crook of his neck, her hand rubbing his side soothingly as to relax his body. His muscles were still tense, as if the stress and inexplicable hysteria had not been suppressed quite yet. It was unnerving to see him go from being so lively to being so utterly defeated within a few mere moments.

"You're still frightened," she whispered against his neck, kissing his pulse. There was no response other than the feel of his lips against the top of her head and his breath ruffling her hair. He gradually relaxed, though his body would involuntarily shudder and, though the tremors were small, only wake her to the unchangeable fact that he would live with a murderer's shadow cast over him, whether it was Aizen's or the part of him that craved blood during a fight.

"I hate it," he murmured, his voice holding a tone that suggested he was watching the memories playing back in his head. "Waking up in the middle of the night, screaming, seeing my family lying in their own blood and guts. And every time I see it, I'm back there and the feelings don't die down. It's like I'd go back to four year ago, and it will all feel new, like it was the first time. God, I can still _smell _it. Rotting flesh and blood, arms and legs all over the floor-"

She pulled herself back up and held his quivering body close, her heart aching at the sound of his mournful voice. She was as helpless as he was, and all she felt she could do was comfort him as the onslaught of grotesque images racked his brain, his body trembling violently against hers. She heard him whisper something, his voice soft and drained as the last few tremors ripped through his body.

"I just want it to stop." He put his arms around her and returned the embrace as if she were the only link to sanity that he possessed. Slowly, the slight vibrations that shook his body subsided, though his voice still wavered breathlessly. He took several unsteady breaths as he rested his head against her collarbone, then continued, "There are nights when I don't want to go to sleep, because I can still see them. I'd stay up for days just to try and get away from it, only to go to bed and see it all again."

He was truly scared. The two things that seemed to either happen constantly or stick with him the longest were the things that he feared the most. But she only felt guilt-ridden as he hugged her tightly, his nose skimming her neck and his eyes clenched shut as the replay of the traumatic tragedy came to a close, leaving behind a frightened man to quake in remembrance of what he longed to forget. She had brought up the subject that had thrown him into a nightmare, and for that, she felt immensely responsible. "I'm sorry, Ichigo," she apologized gently, rubbing the back of his neck.

"It…it's not your fault," he replied quietly, his muscles slowly unraveling and relaxing as she touched his back, the soft contact serving to console him to some extent. "This happened a lot after my family was killed. It stopped sometime after I met you, but…it was going to come back anyways, I guess." Slowly, he pulled himself away and rested his head back on the pillow, breathing deeply as his heart crashed wildly against his chest.

He would need his space now, she thought as she watched him. It was much like her when terrifying images of the man she had involuntarily murdered would erupt from the darkest parts of her mindscape. While she was broken, she would want to be comforted. When the tears and nightmares had passed, she would want to be given enough room to compose herself. Then she would be, to some degree, back to normal, though she was sure that fear would show in his eyes as it would in hers.

His body and face changed as the pieces of his resolve gradually came back together, leaving a much more placid feel about him as opposed to the frantic and pained air that was surrounding him only moments ago. He opened his eyes as stared at the ceiling for several more minutes, the only noise in the room being the deep, drawn-out breaths that he emitted as his fists clenched the sheets. But, as she had predicted, the fear had remained emblazoned within his amber irises, the solid aftershock of another traumatic nightmare.

"Even when I don't think it'll happen, it does." He sounded completely drained, as if what just occurred had sucked all of the strength out of his body and into some unknown chamber of the hell he had just been in. "Didn't really want to spend this morning with you seeing me break down like that. You shouldn't have to deal with me when I get like that."

She couldn't think of anything to say, the same old "don't worry about it" probably not too convincing for someone who had heard it too many times from empty people who didn't mean it. He was still shaken up, but his recovery from it had been nearly half as long as hers, a perfect testament to his fortitude and willpower. It was a few more minutes of silence before he gingerly moved closer to her, confidence in his regained sanity showing as he put a protective arm across her stomach and buried his nose in her hair, one last shudder jerking his body. "It happens to me, too," she finally decided that he was well enough to hold a conversation, one that, she hoped, would serve to console him.

"The nightmares? The screaming?" he asked, lips brushing against her ear.

"Yeah. All of it." Another thing they had in common--something neither of them wanted but would have to live with, like the scar on his back. "It almost happened nearly two months ago, when we stopped in the cemetery. When I was talking about Kaien." She heard him whisper in affirmation before continuing, "You helped it, though; all I did was cry like a baby instead of scream in my sleep and see it all happen inside of my head. It's easier with someone else there to help you."

"We can't control it," he muttered, paying no heed to her closing statement, trying to do his best to comfort the both of them. "I wish we could, because once was enough. Having to see it happen over and over again with no way to stop it or dull the pain is more than either of us should have to go through."

"God, you look exhausted." She gently smoothed the hair back off of his forehead, but stopped as his fingers latched onto her wrist, holding her hand against his face. His skin had become hot, his brow and neck sweaty from the mental and physical toll the vivid nightmare had taken on his body. And, though she knew that he would forever deny it, she felt guilty, for it had been her prying questions that had brought back the images that make him tremble like a frightened animal in a cage. He had been through too much since he had arrived in Edo, and it only seemed as if more could happen even when they thought that the clouds had finally parted to reveal the light at the end of the deep, black cave that they had been thrust into.

His eyes opened to lock with hers, and they shone with the same bright light they had when he had first woken that morning. He was still timid, but he was back in the real world, his mind beginning to ease down and become lax with his body. "It still hurt, but nowhere near as much as it normally does," he allowed himself a small smile as he kissed her palm, hesitantly releasing her hand as it dragged down his chest and rested on his toned abdomen, her fingers softly running over the single layer of bandages that encased the wound.

"How does it feel?"

"Forgot it was there," he replied, entwining his fingers with hers. The storm had passed from his mind, and it left himself clear and right, almost as if it had never happened. There was something about her that acted as his painkiller, that acted as a relieving light in a dark, demonic room. She was better than any kind of drug, any kind of sedative there was. The love and the kindness and the tenderness she showed him, even when he was acting stubborn and ungrateful, made a small glow inside of his heart burn even more, smoldering his anger and troubles into nothing.

His heart began thudding within the suddenly small confines of his chest as the want and desire that had been felt and shared the previous night welled up from within him again, fresh and new and clouding his brain. But it was far more than the simple want and desire; there were so many intricate levels filled with kind words and tender caresses that the primal need was overshadowed completely. Acting out of pure instinct, he wrapped both of his arms around her small waist and pressed his face against her throat, smiling as she shivered in his embrace.

He most definitely _was _back, she thought as he bathed the smooth skin of her neck in slow, soft kisses, pulling his body on top of hers. Very hesitantly, he pulled his head up and whispered into her ear, "Sorry, is this uncomfortable?"

"Not at all," she smiled, her mind becoming as hazed as his as he dove down and locked their lips in a deep, passionate kiss that left her gasping for breath. Her thinking became halted and her brain dizzy as his lips moved lower, down to the junction between her neck and shoulders, then even lower to her collarbone. The whispers of contact were enough to drive her insane, over the fine edge of sanity and reason. And closer over that edge she crept as he continued to kiss her wildly, his hands pinning her hips down beneath his.

He pulled back, concerned as she murmured his name and gripped his bare shoulders. "Sorry-"

His words were cut off as she draped her arms around his neck and crushed her lips to his, only pulling back far enough to say, "Stop apologizing, fool."

He smiled broadly into the kiss, letting her know that it was a request he would be more than happy to comply with. It was rare for him, almost foreign, to find a person who could ease the emotional burden off of his mind to the point where it was nearly non-existent. The alien feeling of peace that would creep into his mind and shut down all thoughts of everything except for the here and now, for the girl that warmed his heart after so many painful years of cold isolation. Was that all there really was, he pondered as his tongue prudently slid along her lips, her soft moan only encouraging him to kiss deeper, slower. If everything extraneous in his life were to be removed, would they be the only things that remained? He believed that to be the beautiful, indisputable truth, something that he thanked every god imaginable for.

Her arms snuck around his torso, afraid that if she let him go he would disappear, that the past several months had been nothing but a wonderful, euphoric dream. She felt the tight muscles in his back shift beneath his skin, moving in response to her unbearably soft touches. Gently, she pulled back and studied his eyes as her fingertips drifted over the raised scar stretching from his shoulder to his hip, only partially covered by the white bandages that hid the grotesque wounds that he had suffered because of a madman's sick mind.

Something flickered in his eyes, though she couldn't tell what it was. Almost a brief hint of remembrance, though the aching, the inner sorrow, was virtually gone. But almost as soon as it appeared, the flash of emotion was gone, replaced by the foggy hunger as his lips crashed back down against hers, the entire length of his body pressed fully against hers. A low, throaty groan rumbled deep in his throat as her fingers dug into his lower back, her eyes slowly shutting as his calloused hands roamed over her skin, brushing over every inch of her silky flesh.

He wanted desperately to imprint everything about her into his mind--her smell, her taste, her feel, her image. There was no way he could ever get enough of her, no matter how long he held her or kissed her. He didn't _want _to get enough of her; he wanted to have an excuse to keep doing what he was doing, to possess and be possessed, to feel and be felt, to love and be loved. All he wanted was for it to be able to last forever, for the sensation to consume his entire soul and suffocate him, crush him.

Her skin prickled as his warm breath drifted across her face, droplets of sweat beginning to form on his neck and back as the kisses progressively became harder and faster. She could tell that, despite how he was trying to mask it, his mind continued to be plagued by the aftershocks of the traumatic images that had stricken within him a fear so penetrating that it would have completely destroyed a lesser man's sanity. There was a kind of desperation to him, his actions strained as if he were fighting some immoral urge. But she knew that he just wanted to forget, to be able to disregard the world of troubles that afflicted his mind on a daily basis. And she wanted to help him forget, to rid him of the terrifying pictures that would tear at his sense of reason.

She unhooked her arms from the clutch around his chest and brushed her fingertips down his sides, drawing out a ravenous and impatient growl that vibrated against her lips and seemed to shake his entire body. She felt the tight cords of muscle running throughout his torso, inwardly smiling as they went lax under her touch. Her fingers traveled down his powerful arms to where his hands rested on her hips, the strong grip making it impossible for her to escape--not that she wanted to. She shuddered against his warm body as the hold tightened and he pressed his face into the base of her neck, inhaling deeply.

He wanted to make the entire moment last for the rest of his life, to make damn sure that he could remember everything about her, to later feel it in the same way he was feeling it at that exact moment. He softly kissed her pulse and let his hand skim over her thigh, eliciting a moan that only served to arouse him even more. Pulling back from the heated kiss only a few millimeters and taking her small hand in his, he looked into her indigo eyes, searching for the look of confirmation that he wasn't taking things too far. And he received it, his arms tightening around her petite waist as he slowly slid into her, his heated kiss muffling her cry of pleasure.

Later, she lay curled snuggly against his chest, listening as the rapid beating of his heart slowed into a gentle thumping against his warm skin, her eyes drooping shut as the steady beats reverberating in her ear gently lulled her into a half-sleep. She didn't want to completely fall back into subconscious, in case his nightmares returned--he wouldn't wake her if they came back, she knew that much, and she didn't want him to suffer if she was laying right next to him. He seemed well enough, though, but she also knew that he was skilled at keeping putrid emotions from tainting his usual scowling demeanor.

He nuzzled his nose into her soft raven-colored hair as she kissed the taut skin of his defined chest, relishing the euphoric warmth that his lean body emitted. There was a time of quiet peace shared between them, where the only sound was the deep breaths that filled his lungs. They were both at a mutual understanding that there was nothing that needed to be said, only actions that conveyed the true depth and passion of their feelings. She reached down and caressed his bandaged abdomen, pulling back when the cords of tight muscle instinctively flinched against the touch. Her hand stopped when he gently took hold of it and held it atop the wound, his lower torso quickly becoming lax under her palm. She smiled into his shoulder as his other hand rested on her hip, his calloused fingertips absentmindedly ghosting over her skin. She buried her face against his collarbone, giving a slight giggle the moment his index finger brushed over her navel. "What?"

"That tickles," she whispered, stifling another laugh as he continued to draw abstract designs on her stomach, paying no heed to her half-hearted protests. She grabbed his wrist and held it still, but couldn't contain the laughter that escaped her lips when his other hand began to trace faint lines just below her hip.

"There," he said smugly, almost as if he were proud of himself. "That's what I wanted to wake up to; your laughter."

"Since when have you been such a smooth talker?"

"It's an acquired talent," he replied, an ever-cocky grin plastered on his face as she shifted up on the futon, running a slender finger along his jawline. "I've always had it, I've just never managed to find someone to use it on."

"There must be something wrong with you," she replied, toying with a small tuft of sweaty orange hair near his ear. "I've never seen you this happy before. It's a little strange to see you so at ease. I must say, it's quite a deviation from when I first met you."

"That's because when I first met you, you were a pain in the ass," he retorted, receiving a kick to the shin for his comment. "But you were strong." His face immediately became serious as her eyes met his. "You_ are_ strong. You didn't ask to be brought into this situation, and you've managed to keep a brave face and make the most of it. All I'd be doing is sulking and feeling sorry for myself."

"You've got way more to feel sorry about than I do, and I've never once seen you sulk."

The corner of his lip twitched upward as she lowered herself back down and rested her head against his shoulder, but he couldn't find the proper reply for what she had said. Yes, he had sulked when his family had been slaughtered, but what concerned him was that the single most important person in his life had payed no heed to what he had said earlier. Kurosaki Ichigo was a loose cannon, a time bomb of rage and fury ready to explode when provoked, and he didn't want her caught in the wake of his inevitable psychopathic scene. But what concerned him even more was the fact that she seemed to not only accept the unsavory realization of his instability, but that it didn't even scare her. It frightened him, more than she'd ever know, so why wasn't it having a similar effect on someone who could easily become collateral damage in his search for revenge?

He'd never hurt her intentionally, but he couldn't deny what he had been turned into. What he had been turned into..._What the hell have I been turned into?_ There were times when he couldn't distinguish the fine line that separated the sane human from the irrational killer. He knew that the monster that lurked deep within him had been suppressed by the only person who had shown him a shred of kindness in four long years, but the single question that remained on the surface of his mind was when would it come back to claw at his resolve. But she couldn't have known what it was like to see him in such a state; the only time she had seen him fight was when they had been ambushed, and even then he had been holding back. But again, he had to ask himself why. Had he held back because she had been there, watching him? It was then, as the painful epiphany shot through his body like a bolt of angry lightening, when he realized the fear that had been buried deep inside of him.

He was frightened of, for the second time in his life, losing everything he cared about.

* * *

_Hmm. I don't know, I kind of didn't like that chapter. It was supposed to have more in it other than the "morning after" type thing going on, but I just started writing and one thing led to another...and I got this. I was going to go back and remove a few things, but I found out that you can have two, three, and four without one. _


	17. Handful of Redemption

_For some reason, this took a long time to write. I apologize for that, for what it's worth. But I've been having a busy couple of weeks and can't find much time to myself. We're wrapping up stuff at my middle school so we can start preparing for our graduation testing (which will only be a fraction of what my high school graduation exams and college entrance exams will be). But, on the bright side, since it will all be review, it shouldn't consume too much of my time._

_By the way, if any of you recall what I said last update about me joining up with my local Civil Air Patrol squadron, you'll know what I'm talking for the duration of this paragraph. I got my combat boots the night that I last updated, and my dad suggested that me "break them in" the next day. So, bright and early on Saturday morning, I strapped on the boots and began walking. After about two miles, my ankles started hurting, but I just thought that it was because I was so out of shape. Another mile later, however, I could barely walk. I took off my boots and say that the though leather had rubbed sores into my ankles and heels, making it very painful to walk (footies and combat boots don't mix. Don't be an idiot like me; go out and get combat socks first). I had to wait twenty minutes on the side of the road for my golf cart to arrive via my mother. (Thanks, mommy!) _

_Yesterday I loaded into a van with six other people and headed to Atlanta for Momocon, all the while blasting bands such as The Used, Job For A Cowboy (did not like them), Avenged Sevenfold, and My Chemical Romance from the speakers. I went as a shinigami, as per my usual, with my friends who dressed up as emos…as per their usual. We hung around for a few hours before heading over to The Varsity for some chow. FYI, for those of you who will be visiting the ATL, eat at The Varsity. I got a chili dog, plate of onion rings, medium sprite, and a chocolate shake for seven dollars. Can you spell discount?_

…_And my boyfriend's sick :-( _

_I'm done now. Bye-bye._

_BleachBox out._

* * *

_**December 23, 1611  
**__**9:02 AM**_

There were very few things that could rouse Kurosaki Ichigo from a slumber as deep as the one he had been in at that very moment. A sensation of danger that his honed senses could pick up under any conditions was one of them. Another was sharp, deafening noises, like nearby lightning strikes or explosions. What also triggered a fast awakening were certain voices and the urgency that they carried. For instance, the previous day when Rukia had pulled him from his sleep with an anxious tone to her voice, he had immediately sat perfectly erect on the futon, only to painfully discover that she had been shaking his shoulder to alert him that the wound in his abdomen had reopened. That small instance had resulted in an evening trip though the snow to Unohana's cozy residence for a few quick stitches and a thorough cleaning of the injury.

Yet, he found himself unable to return to the peaceful sleep that he had once inhabited, because of the damn poking that was being inflicted upon his tender ribcage. _The hell?_ he thought with a fair amount of disdain as he turned from his right side and onto his left. Several moments of peaceful safety from the annoying prodding passed, leaving the man to believe that the gentle yet consistent attacks on his side had been a figment of his imagination. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, however, the nudging began again with noticeably more force, causing him to groan loudly and roll onto his back, hoping that another change in position would rid the sensation from his torso. When the poking commenced yet again, it was also accompanied by small hand that insisted upon giving his shoulder a vigorous shake.

"Ichigo," a soft voice whispered in his ear, another probe following.

"Mmn. What?" For the third time, he shifted on the mat and rested on his stomach, burying his face into the heavenly soft pillow and waving his hand nonchalantly in hopes of dismissing the continuous nuisances that seemed to be plaguing him that very morning.

"Ichigo, get up. Look, I brought breakfast from the kitchen." The statement sparked some interest within the man's foggy mind, at least enough for him to pull his head up from the pillow to stare at Rukia with a single bleary eye. The amber orb studied her seemingly innocent figure with careful scrutiny, trying to decide whether or not she had actually brought food or was just using it as a ploy to get him up instead of sleeping for hours on end as they had done the previous day. She _was_ up and dressed, and the story _was_ plausible, but he also knew that she was good at getting him to do things that he didn't necessarily want to.

He prided himself on taking risks, but he was going to play this one safe; "Nuh uh. Sleep. Need some."

"Come on, Ichigo," the petite woman whined, jabbing his ribcage one final time. She received only a grunt in reply, but could understand how tired he was, even though she didn't plan on sympathizing with him. The original plan had been to irritate him into rising, the alternative being to coax him with the food that she knew he wanted. But she also knew the secret weapon that would work perfectly against him. "I even managed to have some spicy tamagoyaki made to go with the miso soup and nattō."

Crap. Spicy tamagoyaki and miso soup; his favorite. "Dammit," he grumbled, slowly pulling himself up and rubbing his eyes tiredly. They narrowed defensively when he saw her smug smirk, but decided not to engage in conflict when a tray of extremely appetizing dishes caught his attention. He sighed deeply, pulling at the bandages encompassing his chest before yawning, "What time is it?"

"I'm not sure," Rukia replied, sitting down next to him and pulling the tray of steaming goods in front of them. "The sun rose only about half an hour ago, so I would guess around seven."

Ichigo groaned loudly, collapsing back onto the futon and shoving the pillow over his face, crossing his arms defiantly over his bare chest. "Too. Damn. Early."

"It is not. Now stop being such a baby and eat." Her order seemed to have no effect whatsoever on the stubborn man, which was beginning to irritate the raven-haired woman. It was suddenly becoming painfully obvious just how taxing Ichigo's thick skull could be on her patience. She scowled as he continued to remain in the protective position he had taken, not bothering to think about the sound thrashing that he would receive if he insisted upon acting like a child. Her tolerance of his early-morning attitude quickly dwindling, she took a pair of slender chopsticks and picked up a small slice of tamagoyaki, holding it above the man's grimacing face.

Ichigo's nose twitched as the sweet scent of the spicy omelet flooded his senses, making his mouth begin to water. Very slowly, he pulled the edge of the pillow away from his eyes and cautiously studied the woman in front of him, eyes occasionally darting to the small piece of food hovering a few inches from his face. The staring continued for around another minute before she jabbed at his cheekbone with the tamagoyaki and the utensil holding it, nearly missing and puncturing his eye in the process. He swatted it away with his hand, leisurely sitting up yet again and grumbling all the while, "Yeah, yeah, I'm getting up."

Satisfied, Rukia allowed him to remove the chopsticks from her hand and set the small portion of the omelet in his mouth. He let it sit in his mouth for several seconds before swallowing it whole, his trademark scowl betraying how excellent he thought the food was. "I assume you like it?" Her inquisition received a curt nod and a small grin, amber eyes softening as they made contact with violet ones. She watched as he scooted around on the wool futon, but reeled back as the sheet that had been wrapped around his waist slipped down, revealing a stretch of toned skin beneath his navel before he snatched the cloth up again. "For god's sake, Kurosaki," she yelled, covering her eyes as a blush crept over her face. "Put some clothes on!"

"Alright, fine," he held up his hands, somewhat oblivious as to why the raven-haired woman was suddenly so sensitive to seeing his body. He smirked widely as she turned her back to him, not wanting to watch as he pulled his hakama and haori back on. "What's the big deal, anyways? It's not like you've never seen me without any clothes on before."

"That's completely different, Ichigo," she replied, her face still tinged pink. "Just because I have doesn't mean you need to be running around naked all day. At least keep your pants on."

He sighed deeply, rolling his eyes; women could be really strange sometimes. "Kurosaki, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

"That's what you called me a few seconds ago; Kurosaki." He crossed his legs, watching her as she poured them each a cup of green tea, flicking the residue that had pooled on her fingers into his face. "And I thought you were starting to like me."

"Shove it and eat your food, _Kurosaki_," she said cockily, adding emphases to his last name.

"Whatever you say, _Kuchiki_." He picked up the small cup of hot liquid and raised it up, muttering "Itadakimasu" before guzzling down all of it's contents in two long gulps.

"You're supposed to say that _before_ eating," Rukia pointed out, suppressing a laugh as he cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I'm a man," he shrugged, slurping on the miso soup. "I'm weak." There was more he wanted to say, but he couldn't find time to speak with the rate at which he was shoving the food into his mouth. He hadn't had any of his favorites in some four-odd years, and he wasn't going to waste his time with pointless chit-chat while some of the best tasting tamagoyaki he'd ever had was getting cold. "This is good stuff," he murmured through a mouthful of food.

Rukia merely smiled as she watched him consume mass amounts of all of the meals she had brought to the room. Very quickly, he was filled to capacity while she was still working just on her soup. "I hope you don't make yourself sick," she said regarding to how speedily he had devoured his half of the food.

"Don't worry about me." Ichigo balled his hand into a fist and thumped it against his gut, careful to avoid the raw wound. "I got a cast-iron stomach. Besides, I haven't had food like this in years. Hell, the breakfasts I've had here have been the only ones I've eaten in a long time. Most days I just go without, primarily because I can't really afford a lot of food." He scratched the back of his head, eyes cast downward to his lap. "I'll have to get a hell of a better job if I'm going to be taking care of the both of us."

She looked up from the tray, turning her head to the side so she could fully see his profile. His arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes narrow and distant with his eyebrows slanted downwards in a pensive frown. "I told you not to worry about that. It won't be bad; we'll manage."

"Yeah, but…" His voice trailed off with a sigh, his fingers rubbing his temples before continuing, "We're not idiots, Rukia. We know all about cause and effect, and there is a big possibility that, to put it plainly, you're pregnant. If that's the case, then that'll be _three _people surviving off of an income that's barely enough for _one_. How can we make that work? And not to mention the fact that you'll be eating enough for a small family while you're carrying the baby. And we'll have to find someplace that doesn't freeze over in the winter and get scorching hot in the sum…Oi, what're you laughing at?"

"Nothing, nothing," she giggled, watching his brow furrow in confusion. "It's just that I've told you several times not to worry about it, and yet you insist on having a melt-down each time the subject comes up." She let her hand wander up his back and over the fine hairs at the base of his neck, rubbing the flesh overlaying his spinal cord. Rukia bit back another snicker as he almost pouted and glared at her from the corner of his eye. A realization struck her, and her smile softened. "I don't think I've ever seen you this worried over anything before."

"Well," he grumbled, his face suddenly taking on a shade of light red. "It's just that…this is big. Though nothing's set in stone yet; there is a very small chance that you're not pregnant, and we haven't even managed to find a way to get out of this arranged marriage crap. Also, if we do end up having to elope, we'll have to find a new place to live, somehow find a way to change the color of my hair, get new _names_-"

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"Overreacting. Relocating and changing your conspicuous hair color are reasonable measures, but changing our names?" Her smile broadened as he turned his head to look at her fully, his face still bearing a fierce scowl.

"We'd be harder to find if our names were changed," he dryly retorted, his words belying his actions as he firmly put an arm around her waist. "I guess now it's evident who the thinker is here." His other arm joined its partner to form an iron-like grip around her waist as he pulled her in front of him, one of his hands absentmindedly playing with the sleeve of her kimono. He rested his chin on her shoulder as she pressed her back against his rock-hard chest, a smile creeping over his face as she shivered in his embrace. "Any plans for today?" he asked, the feeling of his hot breath eliciting another shudder from the girl.

"Well, I thought we could…" her voice trailed off as his lips began to ghost up her neck, his chest expanding as he filled his lungs with air, flooding his senses with her intoxicating scent. She shut her eyes, her small hands latching onto his arms as he pressed a light kiss just beneath her ear. "What are you doing, Ichigo?"

"Distracting you," he replied, his tone unwavering as he nuzzled the crook of her neck. "You were saying?"

"I was saying that we could go-" She instinctively bit back a moan as he gently nibbled on her flawless skin, his sleep-tousled orange hair tickling the side of her face. It seemed as if he wouldn't truly be happy until he either got some form of affirmation that what he was doing was being enjoyed, or until he drove her to the point of turning around and smacking him in the head. And knowing him, she could tell that he was probably going for both. "Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?"

"Depends on the answer." He gave an inward devilish grin, knowing fully well what his ministrations were doing to her. Though he had no intentions of stopping, at least not until she gave in or, the more likely course of action, she pummeled him into submission. His arms tightened their hold on her small body, his amusement only amplified by the way she burrowed against him. He kissed the junction between her neck and shoulder one last time before trailing his lips up to he ear, gently teasing the sensitive lobe with his teeth. "You're really bad at pretending that you don't like this."

"Shut up," she growled dangerously, elbowing the center of his chest. "I didn't bring up your breakfast just so you could trick me into stroking your ego for you. Besides, my brother and Renji are due back in two days, and this might be our last chance to go out and see the city."

"I thought your brother forbade me from leaving the grounds unless my wounds reopened, in which case I'd only be allowed to go to Unohana-san's house."

"So?"

"Well, aren't you the rebellious one?" he joked, his baritone voice rumbling up from within his chest. His humorous tone disappeared as soon as she tried to break out of his embrace, his grip unfaltering as he buried his nose against the crook of her neck. "We can stay here for a few more minutes, can't we? It's still early."

"I'll never be able to figure you out, Ichigo," she whispered, not minding at all when he began to trace tender kisses up her neck and shoulder. "You act like a tough guy all the time, and then you turn around and get all soft and gentle. Why is that?"

"Well, being a hard-ass isn't exactly a turn-on, is it?" He gave a small smile as she laughed, loosening the hug enough so she could turn around and face him. "Besides, I've seen the look you get in your eyes when your brother treats you like crap. I don't want to be the reason you get that look, especially when it pisses me off when you have to go through all of that. You ready to go?"

"Sure."

"Alright, then," he replied, picking her up and holding her under his arm with one deft movement. "Where to?"

"Kurosaki! Put me down!" Rukia pulled herself out from beneath his arm, her eyes wide and face flushed. "Are you insane?"

"Back to Kurosaki, are we?"

"…Shut up."

* * *

Edo was, as Ichigo noted, even larger when you were trying to navigate to certain shops and stands through mass crowds of tightly-packed pedestrians. And the ecstatic raven-haired woman who refused to pause for even a moment to wait on the bemused man following her made it even harder. "Dammit, Rukia!" said man yelled above the din of the throng, standing on the balls of his feet to see over several heads of the people surrounding him. "Where the hell are you going?" 

She waved back from the opposite side of the road, the large smile she wore on her face only making the orange-haired man angrier. He stalked through the horde of civilians, visibly fuming as the negligent members of the group continued to jostle and bump into him. The bobbing head of orange hair disappeared for a moment -- he had probably tripped over someone's foot -- and popped up again a mere ten feet in front of her, brown dust spread across the right sleeve of his haori where his arm had broken his fall. He emerged from the crowd, wiping the grime from his sleeve and grumbling about "oblivious idiots." An incredulous expression crossed his face as his keen hearing picked up the sound of her nearly inaudible giggling. "And just what the hell is so funny?"

"How come you're the only person I know who can't even walk across a street without falling on his face?"

The only response she received was a low growl and a muffled mumble that sounded like "damn mini she-demon."

Disregarding the bitter grumbles, Rukia took his large hand and quickly led him down the walkway. He protested at first, planting his feet firmly on the ground and digging his heels into the dirt, but quickly followed her lead soon after her foot made contact with his shin. She skillfully wove their way through the large groups and crowded crossroads, looking around the streets with slightly narrowed violet eyes.

"Where the hell are we going, anyways?" Ichigo asked impatiently, pulling on her hand to slow them down.

"I'm not quite sure," she replied, the answer causing the man behind her to cock an eyebrow and be overcome by a sense of forewarning. Instead of turning to see his skeptical expression that would, no doubt, serve to be good for a couple laughs, she hurriedly continued on her unknown journey until they reached the largest of the many crossroads they had seen. This time, she spared a brief glance at his furrowed brow and downward curvature of his lips that clearly conveyed his confusion. "Well?"

"'Well,' what?" he answered, looking down at her and folding his arms over his chest. "What now?"

"Which way should we go? North, south, east, or west?" She sighed and continued when his gaze only became even more quizzical. "This is the major crossroad in Edo. This road would take us east to the harbor, that one north heading to Utsunomiya, that one west to Kofu, and that one goes south to Yokohama," she explained, pointing to each dirt road respectively. "Now, which way should we go?"

"Uh," he jabbed a finger outwards, pointing down the road to their right. "West. Get out of the city for a whi-" Ichigo abruptly stopped, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Walk."

"Wha-?"

"_Walk_," he ordered, his voice taking on a c completely different tone. "Back into the crowds. Stay close."

"Ichigo, just what in the _hell _is going on?"

"There's no time to argue," he growled, his eyes turning hard and ferociously cold. "Just stay close and follow my lead. Do _not _look behind us." He took her hand and, trying to look as normal as possible, began to lead her back into the packs of people, weaving through the small gaps and openings, their pace increasing only slightly to give the sense of an average couple briskly striding down the congested roadways, trying to get through the crowds. "Just keep walking."

"For the final time, what is going _on_? And you had _better _answer me," she hissed, though her face remained unchanged to maintain the façade of normalcy.

"We're being followed," he murmured, his eyes flickering to one of the many bodies moving amongst the streets. "It's not a guard, at least not one of the ones I've seen around the palace. And I made it a point to remember what the guards looked like incase your paranoid brother assigned one to watch us. _Don't _turn around!"

The icy command caused Rukia's head to snap forward, her body going rigid as the venomous, if not extremely frustrated, tone in his voice sliced through the air. She felt him put a hand on her shoulder as they zigzagged through the many groups cluttering the pathways, the grip progressively becoming tighter as time went by. She stole a look at his face and almost immediately an image of him fighting off the band of roving murderers only a month before flashed through her mind. The fiery eyes, the furrowed brow, the angry scowl, the low, sharp voice; an entirely different Ichigo from the one who had just been laughing and shouting earlier that same morning. She could see the wheels turning in his head, the entire situation being analyzed with his critical, fine-tuned senses. He was looking for something, a way of escape, a carefully executed plan that could get them out of there.

"We're not shaking him off, Rukia," Ichigo said, directing her to the opposite side of the street and watching from the corner of his eye as the man crossed over shortly after they reached the left side. "We gotta split up. I'll put you in a crowd, a big one, and then I'll lead him somewhere so I can knock the shit outta him get some information without being interrupted."

That struck a twinge of fear within her, not for her own safety, but for his. With as thick a head and the severe lack of common sense as he had, the plan that he was formulating only made her even more nervous. He had a tendency of going off half cocked, and she feared that with her well-being his first and foremost concern, he was failing to look for more rational ideas rather than the one that would endanger her the least. "Ichigo, I'm not leaving you."

"I don't have time to fight about this. You have no idea how many might be following him as well."

"My point exactly. Two heads work better than one."

"Just shove it and listen," he snapped back. They began to approach a large group of pedestrians, and he whispered in a noticeably softer tone, "That first intersection we came across when we left the palace, the one with the fabric stand on the corner; go there when you're positive that whoever's following us has gone after me. Wait five, ten minutes. If I'm not back by the time the sun goes down, get up into your room and wait. If anyone asks, just say that I left for Osaka. Understand?"

"Ichigo-"

"Take care and _stay safe_," he murmured, quickly leaning down to kiss her forehead before grabbing her arm and thrusting her into the crowd, walking through it before breaking into a quick gait. He spared a brief glance behind him to see the figure following him, not even so much as looking into the group that he had passed through. At least he wouldn't have to worry about any contingencies that consisted of having to watch out for Rukia while trying his best not to get killed.

Although, the man who was trailing after him didn't seem like too much of a threat. He seemed around fifty years old, from the looks of the streaks of grey that bordered his hairline. Something didn't seem right about that either, though Ichigo knew very well to never underestimate an opponent regardless of his appearance. But to engage in a confrontation in the street would not be a wise decision, since too many civilians and guards would be witness to circumstances that would serve as the perfect excuse for Aizen to throw him back into the prison. On the other hand, however, if he could overpower his aggressor and force out information on the corrupt nobleman's game….

He could recall a secluded alleyway near the outskirts of the city that would the best place to extract the information he needed, so he sharply turned to the right and across the street again, breaking into a run. An inward smile reflected the pleasure of how easy a seemingly difficult task was becoming. The man had began running as well, the crowds serving their purpose of concealing the fact that Rukia was no longer with him. The prey had turned into the tracker, and was simply leading his former assailant into an unforeseeable trap. At least, he consoled quietly, his healing injuries hadn't caused him to lose his touch.

After twisting through the clamor of the tightly-packed streets and making sharp turns at every other block, Ichigo finally rounded a corner and quickly pulled himself into the shadows of an alleyway away from the bustle of central Edo. He heard the plodding of heavy feet and the gasping for breath as his attacker stopped just before the entrance, emitting winded curses before running again. Ichigo jumped from the tight path and pulled the man in, roughly shoving him against the wall. One hand grabbed onto the man's wrist and his other arm was put against his throat, threatening to cut off his aggressor's air supply.

The struggle was almost instantly subdued, and the orange-haired man questioned with a snarl that could frighten even the most fierce of soldiers, "Who the _hell _are you? What the hell do you want?"

"It's j-just like what Aizen-sama said," the man wheezed, biting back a grunt as Ichigo's elbow dug into his airway.

"What? What did that son of a bitch say? _Talk_,_ dammit_!" he roared, throwing the aged man into the opposite wall.

"Go to hell, you teenage bastard."

"I don't have time for this!" Ichigo growled, pulling the man's sword from it's sheath and prying up his right hand, holding his thumb against the edge of the blade. "I'm going to make this very simple, because I don't have much time to deal with you. I'm going to ask you some quick questions, and I expect truthful answers. You lie, and I'll know when you do, I start cutting." As punctuation, he forcefully pressed the man's skin against the metal to the point of drawing blood. "Now, first off, what did Aizen say?"

"N-No, I'm not saying anyth- ah, son of a _bitch_!" he howled as Ichigo began to cut through the muscle and tissue, the blade reaching the bone as the orange-haired man looked up with expressionless amber eyes. "Al…alright, dammit! He said that you'd leave the girl somewhere and act as a diversion. There was another one who got her after you left."

"Where did he take her?"

"I-I don't know," he replied, breaking off eye contact and feebly trying to shove off the hand clasped around his wrist.

"You're lying," Ichigo stated darkly, one swift movement of his hand slicing his former aggressor's thumb clean off, fresh crimson blood spraying from the wound and staining the stump of shattered and mangled bone that poked out of the grotesque wound. "Listen very carefully," he bit out through teeth clenched together in fury as he put a hand over the man's mouth to muffle the pained screams. "As far as Aizen is concerned, you're nothing short of expendable. That's exactly why he sent you after me, because he knew that I'd kill you. Now, tell me this: do you have any family?"

"I…I got two kids. A ten-year-old boy and a baby girl. And a wife."

"Alright. I'm giving you one shot, just _one_, to tell me where Aizen would be keeping Rukia. If you tell me truth, you can go back to your family only missing a finger. Lie again, and you'll be lucky to walk out of this alleyway alive. Do you understand?" He pulled the sword away from the man's hand and allowed his captive to nurse the bloody stump. "One last time. Where is she?"

"He had spoken of a small granary about ten miles north of Edo's border. I…I think that's where he'd be keeping her. But I don't know if-"

"No, that's enough. Get going before my self control slips."

As the wounded man staggered out of the alleyway, something inside of Ichigo snapped. There was nothing left he had to hold back for, no one that he had to keep oblivious as to what lurked inside of his soul. Whatever it was, whatever he had been turned into, was beginning to slip through the cracks of his already fragile sanity. He was through with the self-restraint and caution that seemed so hard to conjure. Damn self-control. Damn keeping it all inside. Damn it all to hell. He didn't care anymore.

He'd get her back. He would get her and kill Aizen, and not even hell itself could stop him.

* * *

_Ichigo's lost it. Now it's just a matter of time before the end. Only three more chapters to go…_


	18. Paint it Black

_Well, that only took a month and a half. It really doesn't seem like that long, though._

_I joined LiveJournal the other day, but I'm having one hell of a time working the controls for my profile. If anyone on here can give me some pointers, it would be most appreciated. My name there is the same as it is here, so I shouldn't be too hard to find. You can drop by my FF profile and look at my homepage (LJ profile) if you want to swing down there._

_Enjoy the chapter._

_BleachBox out._

* * *

_**December 23, 1611  
**__**7:13 PM**_

There were several thoughts running through Abarai Renji's mind as he raced down the congested roadways that wove elaborate paths through the large city. The one that seemed to be the most prevalent was a question that he had found himself asking many times during the past two years: _Just what in the hell does Kurosaki think he's doing? _

There was nothing more dangerous and half-cocked than one of Ichigo's plans, whether it be while he is calm or in a fit of rage. And when Renji had talked with him, he had been in a state of violent anger so great that the tattooed man had nearly pissed himself. The fury, however, had quickly become shared between the two swordsmen when the perilous situation had been explained. That was how he found himself darting down streets and through alleyways to alert Kuchiki Byakuya that his adopted sister had been taken hostage by a malicious lunatic.

How he planned to explain the situation to the stone-faced nobleman was going to be a battle all in itself. There would be no easy way to confront him with something as serious as this, a tactful approach being the only logical method of approach. However, with the lives of two close friends hanging on the edge and teetering on the pinnacle of disaster, he truly wasn't concerned with the discreetness of the explanation. He would personally see to it that Byakuya had the entire Imperial Army hunt Aizen down and lynch him in the streets. _Or I'll just let Ichigo go at him, _he thought with a smirk. _A fate worse than death. Aizen will probably be beaten shitless by the time Kuchiki and I get there, as long as the dumb bastard is careful._

But there had been something that he had been afraid of confronting since he had learned of Ichigo and Rakia's feelings for each other, something that, as he ran towards the council hall, began to piece itself together. In the ten years he had known her, Renji had always thought of the young Kuchiki girl as a little sister he never had. Perhaps it had been the pity he had felt for her for having a cold, uncaring brother. Or maybe it had been how similar their childhoods had been and how they had both lost everything. But for some reason, he had always felt like her older sibling, as if he had been charged with taking care of her.

Ichigo had been shoved into her life and had almost immediately hated her, which, needless to say, had been quite humorous to witness. But then they arrived in Edo, he could tell that something had changed, that something had gone awry in in the big plan. After all, it was over. She had arrived at her destination unscathed, and Ichigo would be paid in full for his services upon his return to Osaka. So why would he be hanging around? As far as Renji knew, Ichigo wouldn't want to have anything more to do with Rukia.

And the way she had talked about him only made the tattooed man even more suspicious. There was something about the way her eyes looked whenever Ichigo came up in a conversation, something that faintly resembled a cliché love-struck teenager. So, taking matters into his own hands, he had asked her what had happened between them. And the answer had sent a storm of emotions, both alien and familiar, through his mind. She _loved _him? No way in hell, he had thought at first. Not during a time when she couldn't afford to fall in love with anyone. She's just messing around, living in some fantasy world.

Then it all sank in.

The first thought that had plagued him for hours had been the realization that, for probably the hundredth time in her life, her heart would be broken. He knew more than anyone that Byakuya would never call off the arranged marriage, especially not if his sister had fallen for some mouthy rogue samurai who wouldn't know common courtesy if came up and slapped him in the face. And, although he didn't want to see Rukia get married off to some stick-up-his-ass noble, trying to solve a problem of that magnitude would create problems that he didn't need.

For the rest of the day he had sat in his quarters, thinking in the silence that he so hated. Things began to fall together like a simplistic children's puzzle, and it was then that he realized that the anger he had felt towards Ichigo had been masked fear. The fear that someone who he thought of as his little sister wouldn't needed him anymore. The fear of abandonment that he had experienced so many times before in his life. After all, if she had Ichigo, what would she need him for?

He hadn't been feeling that way when Aizen had approached him in one of the many corridors within the Kuchiki palace, explaining to him in great detail what had happened to the orange-haired swordsman. At first, Renji wanted to slit his throat on the spot, and he nearly did. But he decided to put on the calm face of an obedient servant ready and willing to carry out his master's orders. _"Make sure she suffers for ever even considering choosing him over me," _the psychopathic nobleman had said. The first words out of Renji's mouth as soon as he would out of earshot were, "Like hell I will."

He had raced down to the palace's stables and had requisitioned a horse and cart for what he said was "official military business," though he was sure the teenaged stablehand had only been concerned with the money he had been given to keep his mouth shut about Renji ever coming into the smelly shack. With that, he had urged the horse to gallop down the packed streets, shouting warnings and obscenities at the pedestrians in his path. _I'm so sorry, Rukia, _he had been thinking as the cart clattered down the dirt streets. _I'm so sorry._

With a wooden bottle in hand filled with fresh, crisp water, he had burst through the heavy double doors of the prison and had demanded to see Ichigo. The sentry standing guard, immediately noticing Renji's high rank, had quickly ushered him to the dank, foul-smelling cell where they had been holding the prisoner. He ordered the guard to open the door and let him into the cell, then turned and told him to return to his post. The commands had been given with a wavering voice, as the sight of his mangled and bruised comrade lying face-down in a puddle of blood had nearly made him vomit on the spot.

He had instantly noticed a small hole in Ichigo's back, a few inches to the right of his spine, as well as several long streaks that had scabbed over, which he had figured was where the poor swordsman had been beaten with a whip. With great care, he had placed a wadded piece of cloth on the hole and turned the man over, his eyes widening in horror and disgust at the sight of the charred flesh and the numerous gashes that streaked across his torso. He had taken the container of water and had washed away the dirt and dried blood from the wounds, a shiver running down his spine at the thought of how much pain he must have had to endure.

It had been at that moment when Ichigo's eyes had cracked open, just enough so that Renji could see how drained of life they had been. He remembered how the beaten man had rasped his name, weakly reaching for the water that was being poured on his chest and abdomen. The tattooed man had immediately brought the small circular opening to Ichigo's lips, tilting his head back so that the water wouldn't be wasted and trickle down his chin. _"Wh…where's R-Rukia?"_

Renji had explained that she was back at the palace and didn't know that this had happened to him. He then began dressing the man's wounds, praying to whatever god that was listening that he wouldn't do something wrong and make the injuries worse. What had surprised him the most had been how quiet Ichigo had been while he was having his wounds treated. He had expected screaming and flailing and kicking, but only got the occasional moan or cough.

Not wasting any time, Renji had half-carried Ichigo out to the cart with a box of supplies, saying that he needed to transport the provisions and the prisoner to an outpost several miles from the city. It had been a decent enough excuse to get them out of the prison without a great deal of questions being asked. It had been slow-going to get to Unohana's small house, since he had not wanted to travel too fast and worsen Ichigo's condition.

But he had _survived _! By some miracle, Ichigo had lived. Did that mean something? Now, as he ran up the steps of the council building and shoved past the guards, he realized that it did. Ichigo and Rukia belonged together, and that was why his life had been spared. There was no doubt in his mind that they truly loved each other, especially if he had somehow managed to come back to life to protect her.

Aizen had hurt them; he had hurt Ichigo physically and Rukia mentally. He had toyed with all their heads and had nearly killed one of the best men Renji had ever known.

He would see to it that Aizen paid dearly for all that he had done.

* * *

_There it is, _Ichigo thought as his eyes narrowed dangerously. Though his aggressor's directions had been vague, they had been correct. A granary, much larger than any he had ever seen, lay nestled in a snow-covered field with intimidating storm clouds looming in the background, only adding to the darkness that the late afternoon hours had brought upon the land. Fighting in the pitch black had never been a favorite of Ichigo's, especially since there would probably be no light within the building. But at that point, he didn't really give a damn.

His hand clutched the sword fastened at his waist, not even bothering to try and halt the onslaught of grotesque, nightmarish images of his family that flashed through his head. They would become his fuel, empowering the bloodlust that made him yearn for the kill and anticipate the fight. All he needed to do was think about Rukia and what she meant to him. All he needed to do was think about him family hand how they had been so violently taken away from him. That was all he needed to do, and then the anger rose, the hate make his vision become red.

He had waited for this day for what seemed like an eternity. The day when he could finally avenge his family. The day when he could make that son of a bitch named Aizen pay for everything he had done to him. The day when he could finally face him off, one on one, in the final glorious showdown where only one man could walk away alive. The day when he would fight with everything he had, until either he fell over dead or he was successful in his mission. The day when he would tear Aizen apart with his bare hands and drain every ounce of blood from the pitiful coward's body. God, how he would savor it! Making that animal writhe in pain on the ground, making him scream out in pain…

"_For Christ's sake, what if I go after _you_?"_

_No, dammit! Stop! Get yourself under control! _The rage was quickly overtaking his body, but he couldn't let it control him completely. He _needed _his sanity, or what little he had left of it. He couldn't rescue Rukia like a psychopathic murderer, not like the very thing he despised. _"You're a loose cannon," _Renji had told him after he had found him lying half-dead along the outskirts of Osaka. _"Get it together; you're too dangerous right now to be on the streets."_He would kill Aizen, but what about Rukia? What would he do? Would it all go away as soon as victory was his? Would he need a minute to compose himself? Would he go after her, possessed by the demon that was clawing its way to the surface?

_Don't think like that. You can't do that. You wouldn't do that, not to her. _

His scowl becoming fierce at the thought of the impending fight, he drew his weapon and walked towards the building, drawing from his memory anything and everything that would help him to win. Getting into the granary…Granaries were typically one floor with lofts above to store the sacks of grain. He would expect Aizen to be on one of the upper levels, keeping watch from the high ground. Or he would have hidden Rukia up in the lofts, making Ichigo fight his way to the top.

He reached the door, but abruptly stopped. _No, think! Of course you'd come through the door. He'd be expecting that._Slowly, he circled to the back in search of any kind of opening. No doors…but there was a small hole where rodents had eaten away at the wall. He might be able to squeeze through it, if he could find a way to get in without being stuck for ten minutes. He knelt down and looked through the hole, but he couldn't see a thing; it was too dark inside from the lack of light, thanks to the storm clouds rapidly approaching the field. _Screw it._

Ichigo dropped onto his stomach and, taking a deep breath, used his elbows to crawl through the opening. Immediately, he turned and pressed his back up against the wall, letting his narrowed eyes adjust to the sudden darkness. Wait, no guards rushing at him? No blades trying to impale him?_ Weird, _he thought, cautiously scanning the crumbling insides of the building. After several seconds, he could begin to make out the shadows of abandoned farming tools against the wall and fallen planks of lumber lying piled amid cobwebs on the dirt floor. _Wait, there's something in the corner…_

"Rukia!"

Disregarding any sense of caution, Ichigo bolted across the short distance to the corner on the far side of the granary, rage welling up from his gut as her panic-stricken violet eyes made contact with his concerned amber ones. He knelt down beside her, gently pulling her body against his and holding her tightly. He was relieved to see that she hadn't gone into a state of shock as her small hands grabbed onto his haori and clung to it as if it were her lifeline. His hands gently grabbed onto her arms and pulled her body away from his. God, if they had done anything to her…

His heart ached at what he saw; there were bruises all over her body, blue and dark purple marring her soft, pale skin. Several shallow cuts streaked across her arms and legs, dark blood caked over the wounds from negligence to clean them off. Her kimono had been torn in several places, even more bruises being revealed by the openings in the ripped cloth. _No, no, no…this couldn't have happened! Not to her! Oh, god, Rukia, I'm so sorry! _He put his arms around her suddenly fragile-looking body, cradling her against his chest. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, his eyes clenched shut. "I couldn't protect you. I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, Ichigo," she whispered, pushing back against his chest so he could see her body. "It's just a few cuts and bruises. I'll be fine, really." She could see that, despite her reassurances, he didn't believe a word of it. He looked too pained, too grief-stricken by what had happened to her that she couldn't help but become saddened herself. Suddenly, she saw fiery hatred shining in his eyes as they scanned her body again, his teeth grinding together in anger. "Ichigo,"

"He is a _dead man_!" He roared, picking her up with one arm, the other wielding his sword, and turning around to face the darkness. "Where are you, you son of a bitch! Huh? Come out here! I'll tear you _apart_!"

"My, my. Coarse language, a foul temper; it must be none other than Kurosaki Ichigo."

The sickeningly nonchalant voice elicited a deep, guttural growl from the orange-haired man. _That's it. Let the rage flow, _he told himself, his grip on Rukia tightening significantly as the figure of Aizen Sosuke appeared from the shadows, a sinister-looking blade in his hand. That blade…the same one Aizen had used to lacerate his back some two-odd years ago. Though the memories had dulled, the pain could be recalled just as if the battle had occurred yesterday. _Let the rage flow._

"You look quite well, Kurosaki-kun," the murderer commented casually, the tip of his blade dragging in the dirt as he began to slowly circle the pair. "Much better than when last I saw you, that's for sure. Tell me, how are those nasty wounds?" The man's silence didn't seem to phase him, merely continuing with a wave of his free hand. "Oh, well, I can't blame you for being unhappy with me, Kurosaki-kun. But your family broke the law, and they had to be punished. I was simply carrying out the laws that had been set by the Emperor. It was merely justice, don't you see?"

"_Justice_?" Ichigo spat, taking a dangerous step forward. "Justice to _what_? What the hell kind of sick interpretation of the law is that?"

"Ichigo," Rukia hissed, pulling on the cloth of his haori feverishly. She could plainly see what Aizen was doing; he was using his words and mockery to provoke Ichigo into attacking without thinking. But she feared that he couldn't see it himself, being to blinded by the animalistic rage that seemed to almost radiate off of him. "Don't let him do that. He's trying to get into your head, Ichigo!"

"He's already in there," he snarled, lowering her to the ground but keeping a tight hold on her nonetheless. "That's why I'm not stopping until he's gone. Start moving back towards the door," he ordered roughly, pulling her body behind his. They both began walking backwards, slowly enough to Ichigo could watch Aizen's every move. _He's playing with us, _he thought bitterly as he felt both him and Rukia exit the opening, the only greeting being the cool night air and the feel of freezing rain falling on their heads. _He's allowing us flexibility so we can assume that he's not serious. Dammit. And it's _raining_! What the hell happened to the snow?_

"I wonder," Aizen pondered with false sincerity, casting a sly smile in Ichigo's direction as he stepped outside, "Just how much it will take to kill you this time. Will there be more needed than when I last tried? Or are you so weak and fragile in your state of recuperation that a single blow will be enough to get the job done?"

"Get back," Ichigo commanded, nudging Rukia with his elbow. "Feel free to get the hell out of here."

"But Ichig-"

"Get _back_!" he yelled, charging at Aizen with so much force that his feet were kicking up chunks of sod and snow. He swung his sword down at his tormentor with unprecedented ferocity, a deafening crack similar to that of thunder resounding through the air as the two blades crashed together. Ichigo pushed forward, using every ounce of strength he could conjure up, but it seemed as if his efforts were in vain.

"It becomes quite tiresome when you just don't die, Kurosaki-kun. I really wish you'd figure out when enough is enough." Aizen moved forward, forcing his opponent back several inches. The mixture of snow and mud was taking its toll on the enraged samurai, depleting the already poor footing he had on the ground. The freezing rain was also distracting him from his task, much to Aizen's sick amusement. It was like watching a dog with a lame leg try to escape being captured; it would have a hell of a time trying to be the victor of a fight that it had no chance of winning.

Rukia took a step towards the two men, but quickly stopped; what could she do, other than get in the way? He was having enough trouble without having to worry about her running into the middle of the fight and trying to help him. A thought to run back into Edo and get her brother and Renji crossed her mind, but was extinguished by another thought. If Ichigo was seriously hurt and couldn't fight, who could help him then? And by the time she actually got Byakuya and returned, the fight could very well be over. No, she wouldn't leave him, not when he may need her.

Ichigo had seen her movement, and had been silently thankful when she had stopped and decided not to assist him. He roughly shoved the other sword off of his own and made another lunge at his enemy, his confidence growing as the mud loosened Aizen's foothold on the ground. The elements were very much a double-edged sword, but if he could use them to his advantage, he could win. That was all he needed; one slip in the muck to create an opening, possibly to a vital organ, and he would have won the day. He realized that he would have to be reckless and unpredictable to create the opening, and immediately set about doing so.

Cut, slash, cut, slash, on and on in a rhythmic mantra that progressively became faster as Ichigo became conscious of the fact that it would take much more than haphazardly swinging his sword to gain the advantage. He swung harder, his muscles aching as the weight of his sword seemed to grow. He couldn't pace himself; taking his time would give Aizen the benefit of having time to himself to plot a strategy. He had to finish this quickly before the past weeks of laying about and letting his wounds heal would become his downfall. _Shouldn't have listened to that doctor, _he thought grimly. _I should have been training every single damn day!_

Wait, there! He did it! The bastard had slipped in the mud. That was the opening he needed!

He attacked directly, aiming at Aizen's exposed stomach, but pulled back quickly as a searing pain cut through the tight muscles in his upper arm. Dammit, the coward had faked it! He had faked the slip and the descent, and had managed to pull his weapon up and tear through the most vital flesh in his fighting arm. He quickly looked down and examined the wound; it was shallow, and the bleeding wasn't too terrible, but it would certainly have a negative effect on his ability to continue with the battle. His eyes caught sight of Rukia beginning to move towards him, but he raised a bloody hand and yelled for her to stay put; the last thing he needed was for her to see the gash and begin to freak out.

Snarling like an enraged wolf, Ichigo threw himself forward yet again, paying no heed to the stinging sensation in his right arm as his raised his sword. Pain didn't phase him now; nothing did. As soon as it was over, he wouldn't have to do anything like this ever again. His wound could heal in peace and he would not have to live the rest of his life looking back over his shoulder. So why should he care about a little bit of pain? Pain was fine, perfect, in fact. Another fuel to his burning hatred. The blood, the pain, all he needed was the golden opportunity to attack once more.

Metal clashed and sparks flew into the air, only to quickly be extinguished by the rain. The fighting was growing more heated by the minute, the clashing becoming more ferocious and the force behind the blows growing stronger. Both men had become tired from the battle, both weary and letting their fine-tuned senses succumb to the exhaustion. There were no longer any precise, quick movements with the blades, only the beating of iron against iron. Now it was only a matter of time until someone's sword ended it or one of them dropped to the ground from fatigue. And Ichigo would be damned if it was going to be him.

Ichigo could see that he was wearing Aizen down, but at the same time, he was beginning to fully feel how taxing combat such as this could be. His arms and legs burned from the strain of the fighting that, despite what his mind was telling him, had managed to go on for quite some time. Blood relentlessly continued to pour from the cut on his forearm, the exertion of the non-stop hand-to-hand fighting quickly sapping a vast majority of the strength from that single arm. His joints creaked as he narrowly dodged another assault, the tip of the madman's blade cutting from his cheekbone to just beneath his ear. Another shallow one.

A string of vulgar curses cut through the air as he ran forward again. He was _through_! He would end it! He just wanted to go back to Edo and get out of the rain, have some hot food and take a long nap. He wanted for him and Rukia to be left alone, for the whole world to stop raining down on them. The death, the blood, the feelings, were all too much for one man. He wanted it all to just _end_! But would more death slake his thirst for blood, or would it just make it stronger? He didn't care. He didn't care if he ended up in an asylum, or in prison, or in some shallow, unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere. He just wanted the guilt to stop, and he wanted Rukia to be safe. That was it. His life no longer held any value.

The rage seemed to radiate from his entire body, his teeth clenched together and his eyes undergoing a demonic transformation. He pushed forward against his enemy with all of his might, his left hand pulling back to deliver a blow to the man's face that broke his nose with a sickening _crunch_. Ichigo gave him no time to regain his balance, and proceeded to charge after him as he staggered backwards. Their swords met again, but the strength behind Aizen's defenses had been drained from the punch to his nose. The orange-haired man raised his foot and kicked him in the stomach, following up with a strong hit to his jaw.

Ichigo raised his sword and, with a kind of grim finality, plunged in into the chest of Aizen Sosuke, ending the battle with one mere stroke of his blade. Blood flew through the air, splatters of crimson streaking across the victor's rage-contorted face. He looked down at the gasping man lying pitifully in the mud with suddenly emotionless eyes, his face becoming impassive. The human inside of him told him to end the murderer's life quickly, but the part of him that had full control refused. He watched with sick curiosity as blood bubbled up from the man's throat, choking and gasping noises coming from his mouth. His eyes were wide in tragic disbelief, his hands clawing at the sword protruding from his torso.

"That's what it feels like," Ichigo whispered, his voice monotonous. "What my family felt, what I've felt. Being helpless sucks, doesn't it? Helpless to save your own worthless life, to do anything but watch and wait. Tasting your blood, feeling your entire body begin to shut down; how does it feel?" He received no answer other than a strangled plea for a quick death, which only served to enrage the samurai. "Well? What does it feel? You son of a bitch, it's _over_! _We _win. How does it _feel_?"

He saw both Byakuya and Renji ride up to the site atop two horses, pulling to a stop beside Rukia. He could already see their awestruck faces at the site of Aizen's mangled corpse, the look brutal murderers received on their way to the gallows. Fine; he'd give them one hell of a show to watch. He roughly pulled his sword from the man's chest, eliciting a gurgled cry that made him inwardly smirk. With no hint of mercy or compassion, he drove the blade into the helpless body, repeating the cruel act over and over again, even after his opponent had died. Blood flew in all directions, chunks of severed flesh blending with the crimson liquid in a ghastly mixture.

Rukia could not believe what had just played out before her; she had expected Ichigo to win, but not to go into a blind fury and dismember the carcass. Was this what he had been so afraid of? Being sent into a downward spiral of hate that no one could pull him from? Removing the wide-eyed stare from her face, she cautiously walked towards the man, stopping when a low, hoarse growl erupted from his throat. She reached out, hesitant to touch him, but nonetheless softly placed a hand on his back, saying his name quietly. He paid her no mind, his anger obviously overwhelming him, and soon both of her hands grabbed onto the back of his haori and gave him a gentle shake. "Ichigo."

"_What_?" he roared, turning to face her, his weapon clutched tightly in his hand. His enraged eyes burned into hers, his legs taking a menacing step forward.

"Ichigo, it's alright," she murmured, one hand holing onto his shoulder while the other cupped the side of his face, her fingers careful to avoid the tender gash on his cheek. "He's dead, Ichigo," she continued as his eyes were slowly drained of their fury and filled with a sudden sadness. The sneer disappeared and was replaced by a remorseful frown, his bloodied right hand reaching to touch her face, the tips of his fingers barely making contact before tears began to well up in his eyes.

"I…I almost…" he stuttered, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the corpse.

"Shh, no, it's fine, Ichigo. It's over now." Those final three words seemed to strike something within him, something that had been held inside for years. The tears spilled down his face, mixing with the chilled rain and blood, a choked sob escaping his lips as he dropped to his knees. He wrapped his arms around Rukia's waist as she crouched beside him, his entire body shaking from the trauma. He pressed his face into the junction between her shoulder and neck and sobbed brokenly like a frightened child, some degree of comfort coming when she returned the embrace. "He's gone, Ichigo. It's over."

It was finally over.

* * *

_This still isn't the end. We've got two more chapters to go, so hang in there._

* * *


	19. Until The Day I Die

_

* * *

_

Yay! That only took me about two weeks to get done (new record). I'm hoping to have this completely done by June 1, so I'd better pick up the pace. But, school will be over on Friday, so I'll be having some free time to get the final installment done. As soon as this one is over, I'll be releasing a new fanfic, so at least I'll have something to occupy my time with over the summer (other than watching Bleach and Will & Grace with my boyfriend, which I'll probably be doing every day).

* * *

_**January 2, 1612  
**__**1:17 PM**_

Rukia looked away as her brother's cold eyes gazed down at her, burning unseen holes straight through her body. Normally, Kuchiki Byakuya's intent stare barely phased her, but now she felt like the mixture of apprehension and tension would suffocate her before the conversation even started. Her eyes darted to Renji, who stood fully erect next to her like a soldier in a battle line, but his crimson orbs shifted nervously around the room as well. It also didn't help that she knew exactly what this small meeting was about; it was moments like these when she realized that ignorance truly is bliss.

It had been ten days since Ichigo had fought and killed Aizen in the fields outside of Edo. And for those ten days, he had been sitting in a jail cell yet again, this time for premeditated manslaughter. Byakuya had refused to let anyone but the guards to go near his cell, and had not even allowed Rukia to go to the prison at all. She hated the separation, especially since she knew he was emotionally traumatized from the battle and would need as much support as possible.

"May I assume by your uneasy demeanor that you both know why you have been called here?" the elder Kuchiki asked, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair. He sighed deeply as both of them nervously nodded, his face remaining completely impassive.

"Rukia," he stated coldly, watching as she winced at his tone. "I would first like to know why you lied to me about your relations with Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Isn't it obvious?" she replied quietly, her remark taking her brother by surprise. "If I told you, you would have sent him back to Osaka without paying any regard to how I felt about the matter. Just like how you were going to force me to marry Aizen, even though you knew that it would be the last thing I ever wanted to do. Why is it like that, nii-sama? Ever since my parents died, you've treated me like I have no mind of my own, like I can't think for myself."

Both Renji and Byakuya watched as the petite woman began to raise her voice, but it was the tattooed man who was becoming more and more anxious as the seconds ticked by. Right now, they were trying to get Ichigo out of prison, not anger the nobleman to the point of executing the incarcerated swordsman. He clenched and unclenched his fists as Rukia continued, who was obviously not noticing how an angry glint was beginning to appear in her brother's irises.

"I have my own thoughts, nii-sama. And you were just willing to completely disregard them and hand me over to some murderer who would treat me like an object rather than a human being," she persisted, finding herself growing angrier. Didn't her brother care? Didn't he see how unhappy she was before she had met Ichigo? "I want to be able to choose who I spend the rest of my life with, or at least have _some _say in who it is."

Byakuya remain silent for a moment before asking, "And is that what you find so appealing about this boy? That he 'treats you like a human?'"

"That's not just it, nii-sama. He actually _cares _about me, about how I feel. I know he's not all that charming when you first meet him, but on the inside he's gentle and kind. You have no idea everything he's been through; all he wants is a quiet life where people aren't always harassing him."

"_Gentle_? _Kind_?" Byakuya asked, folding his hands together and placing them in his lap. "How gentle was he when he cut down Sosuke Aizen in cold blood? How kind was he when he began ruthlessly stabbing his corpse? Gentle and kind are not words to describe murderers." He knew that what he was doing was enraging his sister and would no doubt elicit a reckless verbal reply, but he also knew that this would be the only way to find out the truth that had been hidden from him. He was beyond being mad; he just wanted to know what the hell was going on.

"He is _not _a murderer!" she yelled defiantly, not paying any attention to the way Renji winced at the volume of her voice. "The only reason he killed Aizen was to save me. And you saw the way he was after it was over; he was so scared of what he might have become that he nearly went into shock. What you saw," she briefly hesitated, remembering the murderous fire within his eyes. "What you saw wasn't him. That is _not _the way he is."

The nobleman regarded her for a moment; he was still unconvinced that this man that his sister had fallen in love with was completely stable. "I would like to see him," he finally said, his voice low. "Here, in the palace. You may go see him and bring him back with Renji, if you wish. But I expect you to use good judgment; if you even think that there is something wrong, I don't want you anywhere near him."

Sighing deeply, he reclined back into his chair and shut his eyes. He doubted she had heard his last order; she had left the room the moment he had told her she could see the boy.

* * *

Ichigo sat in the corner of his cell, his back aching from having to sit up against the cold stone walls. Dark circles rimmed his sunken, listless eyes as they stared blankly at the opposite wall. His stomach let out a deep, low, rumbling growl that seemed to almost echo throughout the dank chamber, the only response being the slight narrowing of his eyes. _How long have I been here? _The answer eluded him; ever since breaking down after the fight and being taken back to the prison, all sense of time had totally escaped him.

A shudder racked his body and forced a loud, hoarse cough to erupt from his mouth and burn his dry throat. He looked at the bowl of food and cup of water near the door of his cell, his breath coming out in gasping pants. He would have gone and ate until the container was completely empty, had it not been for the fact that nearly every time he tried to eat, he would end up vomiting. He had heard several guards muttering about him suffering from the trauma of the battle, but the thought of the fight would only make him even more sick then he already was.

He weakly scratched at the thin bandage covering the gash on the left side of his face, wincing as it stung. For a moment, the notion that it might have become infected crossed his thoughts, only to be quickly replaced by the blank darkness that dominated his entire mind. He was cold and wet from the fact that the ceiling of his cell was leaking in melted snow and freezing water and, somehow, the sleeves of his haori had been torn off and the stitching on his hakama was coming loose.

The sound of a large metal door crashing shut echoed through the foreboding chambers and was quickly followed by the sound of footsteps hesitantly making their way to his cell. His brow furrowed slightly, but other than that, there was no response from the inert captive who continued to gaze at the corner of the prison room.

"Kurosaki-san," a meek, cautious voice asked. Ichigo recognized it as Hanataro, who guarded the far eastern wing of the penitentiary. "There's someone here to see you."

He didn't reply. The young guard was used to this by now; for nearly all of the ten days he had been incarcerated, he hadn't spoken a word to anyone. He would just stare at the wall, only looking up with a blank, almost helpless expression when Hanataro brought him his food. The sentry stepped out, disappearing from the orange-haired man's peripheral vision.

"Ichigo."

His head snapped around, looking at the visitor with unmasked surprise. "R…Rukia?" He stood up slowly, almost losing his balance from hours of sitting down, and staggered slowly over to the cold bars separating him from the outside world. He dropped down onto one knee, and then slowly to the other, his eyes looking straight into hers. His irises slowly began to brighten, some degree of life returning to them after days of isolation. "What are you doing here?"

"Nii-sama sent me down to get you. Renji's waiting outside to take you back to-"

"Your brother wants to see me," he stated, his eyes cast downward. "He knows about you and me and wants to hear my side of the story." He blinked slowly, then added, "Why?"

"I…I don't know."

"He's still reeling from what he saw me do to Aizen. He wants to assess me, to see if I've cracked. He still doesn't think I'm sane."

"If you know the answers to all the questions, then why do you keep asking them?"

"Because I'm hoping that yours will be different from mine," he concluded before breaking into a loud coughing fit, his body crumpling against the bars as he lurched in pain. He sat gasping for breath for several long moments before turning back to look at her, his eyes watery and his chest heaving.

She then noticed just how pale he had become and how gaunt his face looked. His skin had not looked that bad since he had nearly died upon their arrival to Edo; it was a sickly cream color, like piece of dull white cloth. His cheekbones seemed to protrude more sharply than usual, giving him a starved look. The bandage wrapped around his arm was caked with dried blood and dirt, as was the strip of fabric covering the cut on his face. His eyes flickered away from hers as a low, angry rumble ripped from his stomach.

"Ichigo, have they even been _feeding_ you?" she asked, reaching through the bars to touch his face.

"Yeah," he replied, surprised by how warm her hands were as they framed his sickly-looking face. "I just don't really eat."

"Why not?"

"I can't _handle _it!" he yelled, pulling back. "What did I _do _to myself out there? When I fought Aizen, I completely disregarded the fact that I might not be able to keep control of my sanity. I could have very easily turned around and sliced your head off without even meaning to. So what the hell do I do? I'm not going to put you at risk, not when it-"

"Would you just _shut up_?"

Ichigo's eyes widened as he leaned back; where the hell had _that _come from? Her eyes burned into his, only causing him to scoot back even more. Was this how he seemed when he was upset; eyes on fire, jaw set angrily, back completely rigid, teeth clenched? God, he hoped not.

"Why do you always assume that the worst is going to happen?" she asked, her voice immediately returning to normal. "Can't you put some faith into your own abilities? If whatever dark side you have inside of you hasn't completely taken control by now, then I doubt it ever will. You pride yourself on being so strong and tough, yet a hypothetical scenario is enough to send you close to the edge. If this is what not putting me at risk is going to do," she stated, gesturing to his body, "then what is the point if you're only hurting yourself?"

"Better me than you."

"Oh, don't give me that," she snapped, immediately silencing him. "You've nearly died twice, and now you're just going to give up? You went through all of that just to stop?"

"I'm not giving up, dammit. Would you just pipe down for a minute so I can think?"

She smirked, impressed with her skill; she knew all too well that he responded best to intimidation and pressure, even when he wasn't at his psychological best. Then she saw the change in his expression; pained, saddened, almost as if he were ready to cry or scream. His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into the skin of his palm and leaving angry red welts. Slowly, his chest began to heave in and out in deep, angry breaths, his limbs beginning to quiver. "Ichigo?"

"Jesus _Christ_, it's happening again," he growled as he slumped down against the bars, his hands gripping his head. "Son of a _bitch_! I thought…he's _dead_! Why is this still _happening_?" Years-old images of a dead family, as well as the fresh ones of a slaughtered maniacal madman, began to assault his mind, the dull pain in his head slowly sharpening and intensifying. He had thought that once Aizen was dead, these pictures would just disappear, and he could live, to some degree, in peace.

Rukia's hands reached through the bars, cradling his body as best she could with the barrier between them. She nodded in thanks as Hanataro came running up and, under her stern orders and even sterner glare, unlocked the door and allowed her to enter the cell. She put her arms around his broad shoulders and held him as close to her as possible, becoming frightened at the feeling of his massive, strong body shaking against hers. She managed to look at his face, and saw that now it was just the pain that was attacking him, not the tears or the insanity. Did that mean it was getting better?

His hands slowly grabbed onto her shoulders and pulled her back, both of them almost instantly regretting the loss of contact. "How…how can I see your brother when I can't keep a hold of myself?"

She didn't answer, but instead felt a twang sadness shoot through her soul when she realized that, no matter what he did or where he went, Ichigo would never be rid of the traumatic memories that haunted his mind. They might subside with time, but never would they completely disappear. What would that be like, she wondered. Seeing all of those dead faces with blank, wide eyes and open mouths staring at you…She didn't even _want _to think about what he was going through; seeing Kaien's dead face in her nightmares was bad enough without three others to add to it.

"None of that matters anymore," she consoled, reaching up and rubbing the fine hairs on the back of his neck. "There won't be anymore pretending in front of nii-sama. Besides, it'll work out; one way or another, it'll be fine."

* * *

Kuchiki Byakuya looked at the trio standing before him with an impassive, cold stare. Both Renji and Rukia fidgeted nervously, while Kurosaki Ichigo stood completely still, his clothes and bandages filthy and his face hollow. _This _was the man who wished to take care of the nobleman's younger sister? It seemed as if every time he saw the swordsman that he was either half-dead or half-mad, neither of the two doing anything to improve the already poor opinion the nobleman had of him.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, I am personally sick and tired of lightly treading around the problem you and my younger sister have presented me with," he snapped, his words like sharp, icy daggers. "You murdered Sosuke Aizen, trespassed on these grounds, and proceeded to violate Rukia. Why exactly should I allow you to live while you present a threat to society?"

Ichigo remained silent, his listless eyes never moving from Byakuya's deadpan ones. When he finally did speak, the impact of the words was like a blow to the nobleman's stomach. "Because I love her."

_That _was what this boy had been after the entire time? Love? Byakuya shifted his gaze to the elaborately tiled floor at the thought. Ichigo had nearly died twice to protect her, as well as fight off a sick aristocrat to ensure her safety. Those bandages, the scars that could be seen through the opening of his haori, the condition of his health, had all been because he was truly in love with her. He thought back to the way he had felt about his late wife, Rukia's biological sister, Hisana. God, how he had cared for her; he would have fought off all of the legions of hell for her…Was this the way the boy felt about Rukia?

"And if I were to simply let you go free but forbid you from seeing my sister ever again, what would you do?" Byakuya asked, folding his hands and placing them in his lap.

Ichigo scoffed, a grin coming to his defeated face. "All due respect, but do you really think that there isn't anything I'd do to get her? Throw all of your best at me, keep me in jail, try to kill me. I don't care; I'll take 'em all down."

"Rukia?" The nobleman shifted his gaze to the girl, his voice remaining monotonous. "Why would you want to spend the rest of your life with this boy, this Kurosaki Ichigo?"

"I already told you, nii-sama."

"I wish to hear it again, with more details. You refused to elaborate last time."

She sighed, glancing over at Ichigo, who nodded towards her. "Why _wouldn't _I? He's smart, kind, soft; I know he could take care of me, and that he wouldn't let anything happen to me. He _loves _me, nii-sama, and I love him. Just like how you loved Hisana, enough to honor her last wish and adopt me into your family. I wouldn't even want to be with anyone else, because there's no one else who makes me feel the way he does. Whenever Ichigo's around…I don't know, I just feel so _alive_."

"And you're not afraid of him, of how he may act?"

"Afraid of _what_?"

"You saw the way he butchered Sosuke's corpse, as well as the way he nearly turned on you shortly thereafter."

"That man killed his family, and nearly killed Ichigo himself! Do you have any clue what Aizen put him through? On the way here, and even in the prison an hour ago, he'd be in pain and would see it happen all over again! He sees the faces, smells the blood; everything! And he'll never be able to forget it. For the rest of his life, he'll have to live with it like some ugly scar-"

"I've had my family taken away from me, Rukia. I wonder if you sometimes forget that."

Ichigo, Renji, and Rukia all exchanged worried and surprised glances at the tone of the nobleman's voice. Never before had any of them heard him speak with such emotion, nor hear his words break off towards the end to hold back a choked sob.

"My mother, my father, my siblings, my _wife_…And now my sister?" Byakuya shut his eyes and sighed, reclining in his chair. "What you are asking of me, Kurosaki, is to relinquish the last member of my family. For ten days I've been battling with myself upon whether or not to let you both remain together, and it had been the hardest ten days of my life."

"That doesn't make a damn bit of sense," Ichigo growled. "You were ready to give her to some crazy murderer."

"Yes, she would no longer live here in the palace, but where Aizen lives is only on the opposite end of the city. And with the marriage being between two nobles, she would be authorized to visit whenever it pleased her. If she runs off with you, Kurosaki," he shook his head in defeat before finishing, "I may never see her again."

"Nii-sama," Rukia began, but her brother held up a hand to silence her, his cold demeanor slowly returning.

"The rules no longer apply, Rukia. With Aizen dead, it truly doesn't matter who you marry. There are plenty of other men who can take my place after I die without marrying you. But think long and hard before you choose to spend the rest of your life with this boy."

"I don't have to think, nii-sama. I love him, so of course I'd want to spend the rest of my life with him."

"Um," Renji piped up from the side of the room, looking hesitantly at its other occupants. "I don't mean to put a damper on this, but how can their marriage be legal while she's still a noble?"

"She's only a noble by name, Abarai," Byakuya stated, never taking his eyes off of his sister. "It's a funny and sad thing; she lost her rights to nobility when her family members died, but regained it through adoption and gaining the name 'Kuchiki.' I gave her that name, so it shouldn't be too hard to burn the certificate and get rid if it. As far as anyone knows, 'Kuchiki' Rukia never existed."

"You can _do _that?" Renji and Ichigo asked in unison.

"Why can't I? Official documents made and notarized in Edo fall under my jurisdiction. I can do with them as I please. But," he said, voice taking a more serious tone than normal, "don't make any rash decisions just because you can. Are you sure, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you wish to remain with Kurosaki and live with him in Osaka?"

"Yes. I'm completely positive."

"Kurosaki?" Byakuya asked, shifting his gaze to the orange-haired man.

"Yeah. I love her, Kuchiki. I'll take care of her."

"Then," he sighed, sitting erect in the chair, "you both have my blessing, as well as my wishes for a long and happy life together."

Both Ichigo and Rukia, smiles clearly showing, turned around after Bykuya's dismissal and quickly strode out of the room. As they approached the open door leading to the main entrance of the palace, their paces sped up until they were both running as fast as their feet could carry them. They bolted straight into the frigid air and bounded down the steps into the sunlight, not stopping until they reached the bottom of the stairs and sprinted into the snow, laughing and yelling.

Ichigo turned around and jumped in front of her, letting her barrel straight into his chest. His strong arms wrapped around her waist and picked her up almost effortlessly, swinging her around as if she were a little kid. He smiled widely as she yelped, her arms wrapping around his neck. He stopped for a moment, looking into her eyes, before hoisting her higher and running around the snow-covered field, disregarding the odd stares they were receiving from the guards.

When she had looked into his eyes, she had seen the little boy who loved to help his father save the lives of sick patients, the little boy who loved to be embraced by his mother, the little boy who vowed to protect his sisters. All traces of his scowl, his sickness, his sadness, had disappeared into a bright and enthusiastic smile that could outshine the sun. "We did it, Ichigo!" she yelled as he stopped, panting for breath and laughing cheerfully.

"Damn right, we did! We're free, Rukia! _You're _free," he shouted, looking up at her flushed features and kind smile. He savored the warmth of the sun shining down on them, of her hands framing his face as he clutched her tightly against his body. Without any warning, she leaned down and kissed him fully on the lips, the surprise and shift in weight causing him to fall backwards, her petite body landing on his defined torso with a heavy _thud_.

"Oh my God, are you alright, Ichigo?" Rukia asked, shaking his shoulders.

"Hell, yes, I'm alright!" he retorted, his eyes opening and his arms immediately snaking around her waist. He pulled her head down, kissing her passionately and holding her body as close to him as their clothes would allow. Sooner than she wanted, he broke the contact and picked the both of them up, still insisting on carrying her around. He grinned as she grabbed onto his shoulders and leaned down to peck him on the forehead, intercepting it with his lips and giving back a deep, long kiss that left her gasping for breath.

"Oi, get a room you two!" Renji bellowed from the entrance of the palace, a stone-faced Byakuya and a handful of bewildered guards at his side.

Both Ichigo and Rukia looked up at the bystanders, immediately blushing as they realized just how many people were watching them. Ichigo simply kept her in a death-grip, continuing to jog around the courtyard with her hoisted up in his arms, him laughing loudly and her giggling and yelling half-heartedly to put her down.

"God, those two are somethin', huh, sir?" Renji asked, receiving no answer from the impassive nobleman other than an awed silence.

"It would have been a grave mistake to keep them apart, wouldn't it, Abarai?" Byakuya asked after several minutes, still watching the couple enjoying themselves. "Like trying to change fate, almost. I believe I made the right decision."

"Yes sir, Kuchiki-sama," the tattooed man replied with a grin, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't get it, Abarai-san," one of the guards, a boy in his mid-teens by the look of his youthful face, stated as he watched along with his comrades the spectacle in the field before them. "Isn't it against the law for them to be acting like that? Kurosaki isn't a noble too, is he?"

"They're in love, kid," Renji simply replied, clapping the boy on the shoulder as Ichigo lowered Rukia for a long, slow kiss. "That's all that matters."

* * *

_One final chapter to go…well, technically not a chapter, just a short epilogue. Also, sorry for making this one so short. It ended up being only 4000 words, rather than the original 5000 I had planned. And, the epilogue will probably be _really _short (2000-3000 words). So just hang in there, only one last chapter/short epilogue thingy to go!_


	20. Epilogue: At The Beginning

_

* * *

_

School's out! Freedom, sweet freedom!

_Well, I'm sad to say it, but this story's finally come to a close. It took over a year to write, but it was a hell of a fun ride. Thanks to all of my loyal readers who helped give me enough pointers and encouragement so that this could go on for a whole twenty chapters and end completely finished. You guys really helped me out, so I thank you all! (Bows)_

_So, enjoy the final installment, and have a wonderful summer!_

* * *

_We were strangers starting out on a journey,  
Never dreaming what we'd have to go through.  
Now here we are and I'm suddenly standing  
At the beginning with you._

* * *

_**August 12, 1612  
**__**10:30 PM**_

Kurosaki Ichigo, age twenty-one, quietly tip-toed into the one-story house along the Osaka streetfront, pulling off a crimson kosode from over his navy blue haori, a gift which Renji had given him for his birthday a month ago. With the same amount of caution he used to enter the house, he removed his obi sash and katana from around his waist and set them on a small wooden table by the door. A slow, deep yawn worked its way out of his mouth as he crept towards the back room, weaving around pieces of furniture.

He slowly slid open the door to the room in the back of the house, expecting to see his wife, now eight months pregnant, sound asleep on the wool futon in the center of the room. Instead, she was sitting up and rubbing her swollen stomach, the bottom of her violet kimono open. Ichigo smirked as he walked in, musing about how much of a fuss she made every day about how only a few of her clothes still fit her pregnant form. Not that he was complaining; the more skin she showed, the more he liked it. Besides, he liked looking at her large abdomen, knowing that the baby he helped make was growing in there.

"Rough day?" Rukia asked as he dropped down next to her with a groan.

Ichigo scoffed, laying back onto his pillow and shutting his eyes. "Most of those kids don't even know how to hold a sword, much less fight with one."

"You're the one who accepted the job," she retorted, snickering as he opened an eye and stared at her.

"That's because," he replied, propping himself up on his elbows, "I desperately needed a new one. Let's face it, when we got back here, my house was too small and my 'job', for lack of a better term, sucked. Besides, I like this place better; it's more roomy, and everything's really close. I don't have to walk ten blocks to just buy some overpriced food."

"But you hate the job?"

"I don't _hate _it," he stated defensively, his eyes straying down to her stomach. "I just dislike it. Teaching new recruits how to fight with swords is probably more dangerous than the job I just quit."

"…So why _did _you accept the job?"

Ichigo rolled his eyes, sitting up and running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I thought we've been over this. First off, there's no way in hell I'm traveling cross-country while you're pregnant. Second, there's no room for three people in a single-room house. Third, we couldn't even afford to keep three people on the money I was making. Just be happy I even _have _a job."

She smirked, and nearly laughed out loud when his mouth turned downward into a fierce scowl.

"What's so funny?"

"Your face."

"Yeah, that's _real _mature, shorty."

She shot a glare at him and threatened, "I really want our baby to know his father, and I'd hate to have to rob you of the privilege to see your firstborn."

He simply sniggered and scooted closer to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. "So, how far along are you?"

"The physician said that I look to be about eight months, which is pretty accurate, considering when the baby was conceived."

Ichigo looked down at her belly in semi-amazement, his head cocking to the side like a curious puppy. "Only one more to go, huh? You ready?"

"Are _you_?"

"I'm not going to be the one giving birth, and it's going to hurt like hell once you have to."

She sighed and looked at him, seeing poorly-hidden concern in his eyes. "I told you the night the baby was conceived that I would be fine with it. Besides, I _want _to have this baby."

"It's a little too late not to," Ichigo retorted, reaching down and running his free hand over her exposed stomach. Every time he saw it, knowing that a human life he helped create was growing in there, he just felt the urge to run his fingers over the smooth skin of her belly. In fact, as corny as he knew it was, there were some mornings when he woke up with his head on top of it, instantly remembering how he had laid his head there to try and feel the baby kick the night before. "I wonder what the baby will look like," he murmured, his thumb caressing her skin.

"He'll probably have your attitude, the way he's always kicking around at night while I'm trying to sleep." She turned her head to look at him, and saw him staring in a kind of fascinated reverence at her abdomen. It never ceased to amaze her how awed he was at the prospect of becoming a father and having a child that was part of him. "The baby actually hasn't been moving around much today."

"I hope he's alright," Ichigo stated, still watching her stomach. That had been a major concern of theirs ever since they had found out that she was pregnant; stories of miscarriages and complications during birth ran rampant throughout the close circle of veteran and expectant mothers, but was a hard fact that couldn't be ignored. Anything could happen, but the doctor had consoled them that everything seemed fine and that the birth should be a success.

Nonetheless, that hadn't stopped Ichigo from playing the role of over-protective husband and soon-to-be father. He had set many rules, some a little excessive, to ensure that no harm befell his wife or their unborn child. And it even showed in the way he treated her, like she was a fragile porcelain doll and that if he held her too tightly, she would simply shatter into a million pieces. Even on the days she had morning sickness and would be up all night vomiting, he would confine her to their bed until the pregnancy-induced "illness" settled, staying with her all the while.

"The baby will be fine, Ichigo," she consoled, regretting the loss of contact as he pulled his hand away from her.

He remained silent, diverting his gaze to the pale light from the nearly full moon that cast eerie shadows across the wall on the far side of the room. He hated thinking about all of the things that could go wrong, especially since complications were rather common with first-time births. His own mother had nearly died giving birth to his twin sisters, and the thought of that happening to Rukia made his stomach twist uncomfortably. Her yawn broke him from his absentmindedness, and he decided to push the dark thoughts away; there was no use worrying about something that might not even happen, especially if it would cause him this much distress.

Rukia laid down on the futon, shutting her bleary eyes before murmuring sleepily, "If it's any consolation, I think the baby will be fine. Just call it mother's intuition."

He chuckled and leaned back onto his elbows his gaze traveling from her serene face down to her large belly. Ever since the day she had told him that she was pregnant, he had wondered how it felt to carry a child inside of your body. It looked a little too difficult, and the position of the womb made doing even the most simple of tasks rather complicated, but Rukia had assured him that it was the most wonderful thing in the world. She had even told him that the most beautiful she had ever felt was while she was pregnant with the baby.

She gave a little gasp, which immediately pulled him from his thoughts and sent him into defensive mode. To his surprise, she grabbed his hand and placed it over her stomach where he felt a tiny thump against his palm. "The baby's kicking, Ichigo," she whispered in unveiled amazement, marveling at the feel of the small child shifting inside of her womb.

A wide grin spread across his face as he lowered his head to her belly and rested his ear where his hand had once been, giving a small laugh as he felt a series of small kicks against his cheek and along his jaw line. "God, that's amazing," he said quietly, showering her stomach in soft kisses. "Jeez, and we _made _that baby that's growing in there."

Hesitantly, he drew his head from her stomach and pulled her into gentle hug, burying his nose into her hair. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"No, I had no idea," she replied sarcastically, curling next to him, her head on his chest. She concentrated hard, gradually picking up the steady rhythm of his heart. It had a soft, definite beat that always managed to lull her into a deep, peaceful sleep. A quiet laugh escaped her lips as his hand wandered up and rested on her stomach yet again, the rough pads of his fingers stroking the skin. "I love you too, idiot."

"I love the both of you," he murmured, tightening the embrace while realizing that he had never before been so thankful for what he had.

* * *

_The End_

* * *

_The end of this story has brought about the beginning of a new one entitled "Extreme Ways," and is based off of the same song by Moby. If you are interested, you can go to my profile and read it._

_Arigato!_


End file.
